It wasn't often that Albus Dumbledore allowed himself a sleep in during the school year. He knew that his absence at the Head Table was conspicuous and didn't want to set a bad example to the students. Still, the Yule Ball was certainly reason enough to allow himself an extra few hours in the morning. He had been up until one in the morning, helping the rest of the staff return to the Great Hall to its usual décor, and he was far too old to manage on just a few hours' sleep.

The sun was shining through his window as he grudgingly opened his eyes. It was far too tempting to close them again and try for another hour or two of sleep – after all, it was the day after Christmas, who would really miss him?

"Randy." Dumbledore pulled himself into a sitting position, and pushed an extra pillow behind him to lean against as his personal House Elf appeared beside his bed.

"Master be calling Randy?" Randy asked brightly.

"I need some tea." Dumbledore told him. "And scones, with jam and cream. And a copy of the Daily Prophet."

It took Randy less than a minute to arrange everything that he had asked for on the table beside the bed, and Dumbledore then dismissed him before pouring himself a hot cup of tea. He blew cautiously on his tea, before taking a sip.

Ah, perfection.

As the Yule Ball had been the night before. It had been wonderful to see so many students dancing together and having fun. There wasn't nearly enough joy in the world these days, not with Tom and his followers being active again, and it was wonderful to see that it still remained. Though, he'd always found children the most joyful of people. Well, most children. There were a few exceptions of course, solemn children such as Tom, or Severus, or even Harry, were always troubling for him. Not only because they seemed to lack the joy that made children, children, but also because he had seen what path that solemnness led them down. First Tom, then Severus (though he was reformed now), and now it seemed as though Harry might be heading down that same path.

He couldn't be sure, of course, but the hints were all there. Why else would the Malfoys have taken him under their wing? Why else would he have chosen a traditional lifestyle? Why else would Tom not be trying to kill him?

And the most recent hint, why else would he know so much about the Dark Arts?

Their conversation over dinner had been most troubling. He had not been surprised to hear Harry's support of traditionalism, but to hear him supporting Dark Arts had been disconcerting to say the least. And how did he know so much about the different definitions of the term Dark Arts? The Malfoys had mostly likely been the ones to teach him, though if that were true why would he have been against teaching the Dark Arts as Ekrizdis' defined them? He would have thought that Lucius Malfoy would have supported that strain of magic. Unless, Harry had only been pretending to be against that magic to pull the wool of his eyes. Yes, that must be what had happened.

After all, it was hardly surprising that Harry had been drawn to the dark given that his scar contained part of Tom's soul. Dumbledore could only imagine the ways the horcrux had contaminated the boy. It was enough to make Dumbledore wish that he had followed through his original urge to destroy the horcrux when Harry had been an infant, but no, that would have made him no better than Tom. He was Albus Dumbledore, Champion of the Light, not Albus Dumbledore, murderer of infants (regardless of whether or not the infant in question was a horcrux). Even now, the knowledge that Harry would have to die for Tom to be defeated was unsettling for him. Dumbledore just hoped that he would be able to manipulate events in such a way that Voldemort would be the one to kill Harry so that he wouldn't have to do it himself.

Unfortunately, Sirius and Remus' connection to the boy would most likely make that harder than it needed to be, but Dumbledore had no doubt that he could do it. Though, if the boy became a Death Eater that would certainly make things easier. That way Dumbledore could have one of the Order members kill him in a battle. Either way, Harry Potter had to die.

Dumbledore sighed, it sounded so cold when he put it like that. But then, if he had learnt anything from his relationship with Gellert, sometimes you had to do horrible things for the greater good.

Ah, Gellert, Dumbledore shook his head firmly. Nothing good ever came from him dwelling on Gellert.

Reaching for the Daily Prophet that the elf had placed on his bedside table, Dumbledore shook it out with one hand and laid it across his knees, before choosing a scone from the plate. He bit into the scone, before turning his attention to the paper. What did the Daily Prophet have to report today?

'Dark Arts Taught At Hogwarts'

Dumbledore choked, before coughing violently. His eyes watered as he coughed out the scone crumbs that he had breathed in. What? Where in Merlin's name had Skeeter gotten that from?

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"Merry meet, Mr. Potter." Lord Malfoy nodded as Harry bowed. "I hear that you are the person I should be thanking for the headline in this morning's paper?"

Harry grimaced as the memory of the headline in mention. Somehow Rita Skeeter had overheard his conversation with Dumbledore about the Dark Arts and had written an article about the subject. No names were mentioned in the article, so nobody else would know where Skeeter had gotten her information from, but Harry knew. After all, what were the chances that, the day after he discussed the Dark Arts with Dumbledore, Skeeter published an article with the headline 'Dark Arts Taught At Hogwarts'.

"Yes, my lord." Harry admitted reluctantly. "How did you know?"

"Your godfather informed me, he thought I would find the information useful." Lord Malfoy answered, before looking behind Harry. "Speaking of your godfather, where is he?"

"He should be coming through any minute now." Harry glanced behind him towards the empty floo. "He sent me on ahead."

"Well, I suppose I ought to be grateful that at least one of you managed to arrive in a timely fashion." Cousin Narcissa commented coolly, sweeping towards them in the most majestic dress robes Harry had ever seen. "Though may it be noted that I am thoroughly unsurprised that it was you who arrive first, Harry. Sirius is many things, but punctual he is not."

Harry bowed over her hand with a smile. "Very true, Cousin Narcissa. Merry meet."

"Merry meet." Cousin Narcissa agreed, with a small smile of her own. "Unfortunately Draconus seems to have a similar problem with punctuality as your godfather and will not be down for a few more minutes."

"I am not surprised." Harry admitted, before making a point of looking around the room. "The decor is spectacular."

"Thank you." Cousin Narcissa inclined her head proudly. "Did you enjoy yourself last night?"

"Yes, thank you." Harry answered. "Though I expect to enjoy myself more tonight."

Cousin Narcissa looked pleased. "I hear that you had a rather interesting discussion with the headmaster last night?"

"Yes." Harry sighed lightly. "I doubt he was pleased to read about it in the Daily Prophet this morning."

Cousin Narcissa and Lord Malfoy exchanged a pleased smirk. "No, I am sure he was not."

Harry wasn't sure what was so good about the article. "Though it mostly seemed to be fearmongering. So I doubt he minds that much."

"Ah, Mr. Potter," Lord Malfoy's smirk grew. "You are considering the article only in its short-term ramifications."

"I don't understand, my lord." Harry admitted.

"While the article itself condemns the Dark Arts, it condemns Dumbledore in equal measure for allowing the Dark Arts to be taught." Lord Malfoy explained.

"So it will help you to convince people to replace him." Harry realised.

"Precisely." Lord Malfoy gave him an approving nod. "Once Dumbledore is gone we can replace him with a Headmaster who will be more…open minded."

Harry smiled proudly at Lord Malfoy's approval, before smiling in greeting when Draco strode into the room wearing silver dress robes that gleamed in the light.

"Merry meet, Harry." Draco bowed politely. "Mother, Father."

"We are pleased you could join us, Draconus." Lord Malfoy told Draco dryly. "Our guests will be arriving any minute."

Harry smiled, he liked not being considered a guest by the Malfoys.

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The Malfoys' Yule Ball was everything that Harry had hoped that it would be. Their ballroom was just as large at the Great Hall, though there were half as many people present – and everyone on the dancefloor knew what they were doing.

As he had the night before, Harry danced the first dance with Daphne – who was looking absolutely stunning in dress robes the colour of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black. Harry twirled her around the dance floor, enjoying having the room to do so properly and not having to avoid people dancing like they were being electrocuted.

Daphne, who had of course been present for his discussion with Dumbledore the evening before, seemed more amused by the article than anything, though she was just as puzzled about Skeeter's source as Harry was.

"Unless Ludo Bagman told her." Daphne commented halfway through their third dance. "He was sitting on Dumbledore's right."

"He is having money problems." Harry agreed. "Maybe she offered to pay him for the story."

"Is he?" Daphne looked amused. "How do you know that?"

"He tried to steal from Fred and George." Harry admitted, before spinning her away from him and then pull her back. "Sirius is sorting him out though."

Daphne's lips twitched. "He must be desperate to steal from Weasleys."

Harry chuckled. "I hadn't considered it like that. Though by the sounds of it he did get a rather large number of galleons off them."

"Really?" Daphne raised a surprised eyebrow.

"Well, large by Weasley and Bagman standards." Harry admitted. "Not large by our standards."

"Merlin, I'd think not." Daphne laughed. "I don't think anyone's money standards are the same as yours. I don't think I will ever get over your jewellery vault."

"It will be your jewellery vault in a few years." Harry reminded her with a grin. "I'm certainly not planning on wearing most of it."

Daphne laughed again, curtsying as the music came to stop. "I should hope not."

"Shall we get something to drink?" Harry suggested, offering Daphne his arm.

"Yes," Daphne agreed. "All this dancing has left me feeling rather parched."

They made their way to the side of the dance floor, towards one of the empty tables, before each ordering a drink and collecting it from the table when it appeared.

"Merlin, I love House Elves." Harry admitted with a grin.

"They are useful." Daphne agreed. "Though I don't believe I would say that I love them exactly."

Harry chuckled as he turned his attention towards the couples dancing. "Look there are Draco and Astoria."

"They seem to be enjoying themselves." Daphne commented, as they watched Draco twirled Astoria around.

"They do." Harry agreed.

"Astoria had a wonderful time last night." Daphne continued, her tone oddly neutral. "She told me that, for the first time in her life, she can imagine herself marrying him. Apparently he was attentive to her all night."

"I'm glad." Harry smiled in satisfaction.

"Did you say something to him?" Daphne asked curiously.

Harry glanced towards her, worried about how she might take it. "Yes. I was talking to Sirius and he suggested that perhaps I could encourage him to treat her better."

Daphne slipped her gloved hand into his. "Thank you."

"She will be my sister." Harry explained. "How could I not?"

Daphne rewarded him with a bright smile. "You, Harry Potter, are the most gentlemanly wizard I have ever met."

Harry looked back at the dancing and hoped that she wouldn't see him blush.

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One of the most interesting things about the Malfoys' Ball was the opportunity to interact with adults who weren't his professors and weren't part of the Dumbledore's Order of the Phoenix. Sirius spent at least an hour of the evening leading Harry around the room and introducing him to people like Lord Odgen, Lord Prince, Minister Fudge, Lord Burke, and the French Minister of Magic.

Harry had been introduced to most of them the year before, though this year he found it a lot easier to engage them in conversation. He didn't know whether it was because he was a year older, or because they were more interested him now that he was a Triwizard Champion and seven months away from joining the Wizengamot.

"Quite the show you put on during the First Task, Mr. Potter." Minister Fudge commented with a broad. "Your blasting spell is very impressive, very impressive indeed."

Harry inclined his head. "Thank you, Minister. Were you there?"

"Merlin, no," Fudge shook his head. "I've got a Ministry to run, dear boy, can't just slip away whenever there's something interesting going on."

Harry swallowed down a sigh. What was it with everyone addressing him with such familiarity? First Dumbledore, then Skeeter, and now Fudge.

"I'm sorry to hear that, sir." He replied neutrally. "Will you be at the Second Task?"

"No, no, I shouldn't think so. It's on a Friday, you see. Oh," Fudge swallowed heavily. "Was I supposed to tell you that?"

"We've been told the date." Harry reassured him. "Though I hadn't yet looked to see what day of the week it will be."

"Haven't you?" Fudge peered at him in obvious confusion. "Why not?"

"I've been working out the clue." Harry reminded him.

"Oh, of course." Fudge smiled brightly. "And have you worked it out yet?"

"Yes," Harry answered with a satisfied smile. "Now I am coming up with strategies."

Fudge rubbed his hands together. "Excellent, excellent. I'll be sorry to miss it."

Harry inclined his head again. "I am sure your presence will be missed, Minister."

"Of course," Fudge agreed. "But can't be helped I'm afraid." He glanced around, before leaning closer to Harry. "Anyway, Harry, I was hoping that I might have a word with you about another issue."

Harry forced himself not to take a step back. "Yes, Minister?"

"About the article this morning." Fudge explained. "You know, the one in the Daily Prophet."

"Ah," Harry nodded. "The one regarding Dark Magic."

"Quietly, boy, quietly." Fudge hissed.

"Sorry, sir." Harry lowered his voice to match Fudge's.

Fudge's eyes darted around the room again and Harry wondered whether he realised just how suspicious that made him look.

Eventually, Fudge's focus returned to Harry. "The article claimed that the Dark Arts were being taught at Hogwarts!"

"Yes, sir." Harry agreed.

Fudge's eyes widened in horror. "So it's true then?"

"That depends on your definition of Dark Arts, Minister." Harry pointed out.

Fudge's mouth fell open. "My definition of Dark Arts?"

"Yes, sir." Harry nodded seriously.

Fudge's face began to turn red. "My definition is the same as everyone's definition! The Dark Arts are...are dark!"

This time it was Harry whose gaze searched the room, looking for someone to rescue him from this conversation.

"Mr. Potter!" Fudge's harsh whisper demanded his attention. "Does Dumbledore allow Dark Arts to be taught at Hogwarts or not?"

Harry considered the question for a moment. While Fudge's definition of the Dark Arts had been far from helpful, he did suspect that by that definition none of the spells taught at Hogwarts were dark. On the other hand, if he said yes it would probably make it easier to oust Dumbledore from his position of headmaster, and technically, the Dark Arts were being taught.

"Yes, sir."

"I knew it!" Fudge hissed in outrage. "Dumbledore is plotting against me!"

Harry only just managed to prevent himself from frowning incredulously at the Minister. "I beg your pardon, Minister?"

"He wants my position." Fudge answered hurriedly. "He's raising up an army of Dark wizards to attack the Ministry!"

Harry didn't think he had ever heard anything quite so funny and it took everything he had not to burst out laughing. "Are you sure, Minister?"

Fudge opened his mouth, before apparently remembering who he was talking to. "I'd best be off, Mr. Potter." He said with the fakest smile Harry had ever seen. "Enjoy your evening."

"Thank you, sir." Harry nodded. "You as well."

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"What?" Sirius barked with laughter, before quickly putting up a silencing spell when people turned to stare at them.

"Fudge thinks that Dumbledore is using Hogwarts to create an army of Dark Wizards to attack the Ministry." Harry grinned. "I think he's been reading too many history books about Manuel Gaunt."

Sirius blinked blankly. "Who?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Remus would know who he was. He attempted to attack Minister Hesphaestus Gore in 1755 because he thought that he could run Ministry better. He was the first wizard to be sentenced to a Dementor's Kiss."

"Of course Remus would know it, he's your History Professor!" Sirius pointed out. "Anyway, tell me exactly what Fudge said."

"That's it." Harry told him. "Just that Dumbledore was using Hogwarts to create an army of dark wizards to attack the ministry because he wants to be Minister of Magic."

Sirius shook his head. "Unbelievable. What got you onto the subject?"

"He asked me if Skeeter's article was true." Harry explained. "If there really are Dark Arts being taught at Hogwarts."

"And you said no." Sirius encouraged.

Harry bit his lip. "And I said that it depended on your definition of Dark Arts."

"And then when he defined it, you said no, right?" Sirius asked.

"And then I said yes." Harry said with a wince, he hadn't considered what Sirius might think of his plan.

"Merlin!" Sirius ran a hand through his hair. "Why?"

"Because Lord Malfoy said that the article would help get rid of Dumbledore." Harry explained.

Sirius groaned. "Bloody Lucius!"

Harry frowned worriedly. "Will it be bad?"

"No," Sirius shook his head ruefully. "We should probably warn Lucius though. He'll need to talk Fudge off his ledge."

"Sorry." Harry told him in a small voice.

"It's fine." Sirius said absently, before giving Harry his full attention. "Really, Harry, it's fine! Hilarious, yes, but not a big problem, and you're right, it probably will help oust Dumbledore from Hogwarts. Just…you remember how Lucius sometimes encourages you to have a little more subtly about things?"

"Yes."

"This is the sort of time when subtlety is useful." Sirius explained. "The article by itself was great, you setting a fire under Fudge's arse is overkill."

Harry's shoulders slumped. "Sorry."

"It's fine!" Sirius told him again. "You live, you learn. You certainly gave me a laugh, and I can't wait to see Lucius' face."

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