author's note
Well, here it is; the long-awaited chapter 16. It's a little later than the two weeks I'd thought though, and I apologize for that. I went on a song-writing binge.
DJ-cam – Thanks for your review, and I hope you've put some thought into your story and what you're going to do with it.
Rodrigo – I appreciate the kind words. Here's 16, to go along with 15, which I hope you liked as much as 1-14.
Flame – you may have noticed I stuck with the original three characters as best I could. You may have also noticed that JKR has a habit of introducing at least one new major character each book. My ultimate goal has always been to use JKR's characters whenever possible, in any way, whatsoever. So why is there an American? Simple…I needed a character to fill out an idea, and I'm American. I don't know British culture, but I DO know American culture. There is a reason the character is there, it's not just some foreign exchange thing that is pawned off to throw in a vicarious personality. Perhaps you should drop me a line and let me read some of your work, since you were so kind to voice a legitimate complaint. I'm not being sarcastic, it just makes me sad you think you'd have to hide to say something a lot of people in the community complain about in general.
Malenkka – thanks, I hope you continue to read. If you can't be constructive, feel free to be mean. I can take it!
Matt – here's more, and I hope it's not too late to draw you back into the story.
Dolli – nice to see you back! I'm glad you liked that scene, since I could see her doing that as well. She reminds me very much of McGonagall in that respect. Some times, I see people write her off as a stand-in to be aggravating and totally neurotic. I was happy that she inadvertently turned out to be pretty central to a lot of ideas I'd come out. I didn't plan it that way, but it was nice.
Tryoku16 – well, I made you wait, and for that transgression I sincerely apologize. If you email me back with your email address, I can email some other stuff to you. I replied to your review, but I don't know if you got it. I'm not sure exactly how this site handles that.
As always, thanks for reading, thanks to Leia for the betaing, even though she's extremely busy, and thanks for any feedback you feel gracious enough to throw my way.
Patrick McClellan
/author's note
Chapter 16 – Idle PursuitsHarry went directly to the Great Hall, where most of the Gryffindors were already starting to tuck in.
"Ih oo eh erering aien ou?" Ron said, through an impossibly large mouthful of food. Hermione gave him a revolted look and Ginny rolled her eyes.
"What?"
"I said," repeated Ron, swallowing with visible effort, "did you get everything straightened out?"
"With who?" Harry said, glancing involuntarily down the table at Parvati, who was dabbing at something on her robe.
"Well, you just came from Professor Shacklebolt's room, didn't you?"
"Oh. Yeah, we talked. He's given me some books to look over."
"More books?" said Ron, as if that was the last thing he wanted.
"Well, yea," Harry replied, looking around and dropping his voice, "real Auror's manuals, just like I would get if I was actually doing the training."
"Uh, Harry," Ginny said, toying distractedly with her food, "I don't know if you realized this, but you basically are doing the training."
"Well, some of it, yeah, but now I've got, uh, the rest of it." He tried to make it sound meaningful, but only Hermione appeared to have caught on.
"What 'rest of it' would that be?" she inquired sweetly. Harry looked around again, in case anyone was paying more attention than they should. Deciding it was safe for now, he leaned over the table where they could all hear him if he whispered.
"Look," he opened his bag, and Hermione and Ron peered inside. After a moment, Hermione reached in and pushed the books to the side, so she could see what they all were. She paused when she saw Manual 713, and then let out a small sigh of relief.
"Not bad," she said, "for a moment I thought you were talking about the 900 manuals."
"900 manuals?" asked Ron.
"Oh, I've got some of those too. He wants to hang onto them until I have a safe place to put them."
"He gave you some?" Harry had rarely seen Hermione shocked. "More than one? 900 manuals?"
"What's a 900 manual?" Ron repeated.
"Yeah," Harry said, surprised that Hermione knew anything about them. He'd never heard of them before, and he was the one looking to become an Auror.
"What's-"
"In a minute, Ron!" Hermione snapped. "Are you sure you want to get involved with that, Harry?"
"If people are going to be using them on me, I want to know what they are. Besides, you've seen what happens when we can't keep people out of a fight."
Hermione didn't answer right away. Instead, she looked to Ginny, and then to Ron, both of whom had very confused looks on their faces. Ron was waiting patiently, but both Harry and Hermione could see that he was only containing himself with the greatest of efforts. With a sigh, Hermione answered his question. "The 900 manuals are the standard Auror texts that deal with jinxes, hexes, and curses; specifically with how to do them."
"Whoa," Ron said, with a huge lopsided grin splitting his pale and freckled face. "You mean Professor Shacklebolt just gave you a load of books on curses?"
"Shh!" Both Harry and Hermione hissed.
"He told me I'm a lightning rod," Harry said, setting his bag by his feet.
"Well, that much is true, anyway." Hermione sighed again. "It's not that I'm mad that he gave them to you…it's just…I don't like to think of you having to use them. I know you'll have to."
"Oi!" a voice called from down the table, "what are you lot talking about, all secret-like?" They all looked down to see Dean and Seamus laughing.
"Books!" Harry said, smiling. "Why? Are you writing a story?"
"I ought to," Seamus said, "I could write about you, Harry. They'd sell like kettle cakes! Imagine it – Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, no, better yet, Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets! Dean could do them up for me!"
"Don't worry, Harry," Dean quipped, "I'll make you prettier, and Ron as well. That'd be a touch difficult though, in fact, I might have to replace Ron entirely…I could see a tall, dark, and handsome chap instead."
"Here!" Ginny cried, grinning madly.
"You're supposed to be on my side!" Ron complained to his little sister.
"Who'd want to read that," Harry said, trying to look disgusted and failing. He laughed in spite of himself.
"For once, I agree with Saint Potter…who'd want to read that rubbish?" Harry and Ron spun to see Malfoy leaning against the table between Ginny and very surprised-looking Dean Thomas.
In his hurry to rise, Ron knocked Ginny's goblet of pumpkin juice into her lap. She shrieked, and Malfoy frowned. "You really must have cheated on the pitch; you're as clumsy as you are stupid." He turned to Ginny. "What's the matter, Weasel? Ruin your jumper? I'd offer to reimburse you but I'm afraid I haven't got anything smaller than a sickle on me." He was probably going to continue, but a quick glance around convinced him that a hasty retreat was in order. Dean, Connor, Seamus, and Ron were all within a short distance. Malfoy immediately stopped talking and backed away as quickly as he could. Although it looked for a moment as if the Gryffindor bench was going to clear, he managed to escape unharmed.
"That filthy little ferret is going to get what's coming to him real soon," Ron said, looking from his sister to Malfoy.
"I'm up for anything, if you need it," Dean said with a frown deeper than Harry had ever seen on him before. It was uncharacteristic for him, and didn't look right on his face.
"Me too," Ginny added.
"Are you talking about 'Operation Ferret'?" Harry whispered, once things had quieted down.
"I've almost got it arranged, mate. I've almost got it. It's…good. That arrogant prat is going to regret knowing us!"
"I'm pretty sure he already does," Harry replied.
The next morning, they had an early practice, which was almost entirely un-productive. Everyone seemed lackadaisical, and even Katie seemed too tired to fight the trend. Her barking and chiding had been only half-hearted, and they called it a day almost a half-hour early. Harry didn't see how the extra half-hour would do him any good, anyway, since his broom was still pulling left on him, which really messed with his sense of control. There was no way he'd be able to ride it in a match; he'd collide with someone or something at high speed, and that would be the end of him. Perhaps Voldemort was behind the incident after all, and it was just an elaborate plan to get Harry to run into the stands or another player. Harry pondered that while he attempted to stay in formation for one of the gimmick plays Katie had been working on. It hadn't been easy, and the whole team's flying had been sloppy.
He spoke to Natalie McDonald about his broom on the way to the clubhouse.
"Oh, yeah," she said, after he'd mentioned how he'd nearly cracked his knee on a scoring ring half-way through the practice. "Well, you'd better leave your broom with me then."
"What?"
"Hermione didn't tell you? She's going to help me repair it."
"It must have slipped her mind," he said, knowing that the idea of anything slipping Hermione's mind was nearly unthinkable. "Yeah, that's great, actually, because it's really distracting to let go and all of a sudden find yourself drifting off course. How'd you talk her into it?"
"I really don't know," the lithe chaser replied, "I just told her what I thought was wrong with it, and what I thought I'd need to do to fix it." Harry nodded, and reluctantly offered her his broom. It wasn't that he didn't trust her, but it was his most cherished gift from Sirius, and he truly wanted to keep it forever. He couldn't imagine how he'd feel if the Whomping Willow got a hold of another one of his brooms.
"Don't worry," Natalie said, as if she saw the worry in his eyes. "I'll be extra-super-careful!" She smiled warmly, which made Harry feel a little more at ease. As he'd gotten to know her better, Harry discovered that Natalie was the kind of person who said exactly what she meant, and didn't make idle promises.
"I know you will," he replied. With trembling hands, he relinquished the Firebolt with a brief but powerful pang of loss.
After their meal that night, Headmaster Dumbledore cleared his voice until the Great Hall quieted down.
"Attention, attention! I have an announcement!" When every head was turned expectantly toward him, he paused, as if he was having second thoughts about interrupting their meal. "Sometimes, in the course of our duties, we are forced to do things we'd rather not. We have discovered evidence that suggests certain students have been abusing their time spent in Hogsmeade. Therefore, I am left with no other alternative than to cancel the remainder of the Hogsmeade visits." There was an immediate roar throughout the hall, from disbelief to indignant cries of protest.
"Enough!" the headmaster boomed. Instantly, the room fell silent. "Many of you—most of you—have a good reason to be angry. Your time, your freedom, and your liberties have been taken from you. If you have been impacted in no other way by the return of Lord Voldemort and the ridiculous views of ignorant people, then you have at long last suffered because of their decisions. Some of you, on the other hand, are the reasons we have been forced into such an unsavory position. You should be ashamed of yourselves. I ask you all to look around; look at your friends, your acquaintances, those people you know and who know you, and understand that no action is without its consequences. It is not for me to tell you what is right and what is wrong; it is for me to teach you how to determine the difference.
"The time is quickly approaching when you will have to decide, if you have not already. These opportunities present themselves every moment of every day.
"Now, to illustrate the futility of those attempting to disrupt our everyday lives, I have another announcement. After consulting with several students, we have decided to offer a special treat. On the night of Christmas Eve, we shall have a party for all students third-year and below, and a ball for all students fourth year and above."
If the outcry in the Great Hall over the Hogsmeade weekends was tumultuous, the roar that greeted their ears at the mention of another Yule Ball was nearly chaotic. The squeals of support, generally higher-pitched and very feminine, were counter-balanced by the generally masculine moans of disbelief. Harry was stunned into silence, though that didn't seem to be the case with Ron, who turned immediately to Hermione.
"D'you-wanna-go-to-the-ball-with-me-then?" he blurted out, without breathing or looking away. Hermione, who appeared to be in a rare state of shock, managed a very genuine-looking smile.
"Well, let me think about it overnight?" It was obvious to both Ron and Harry that she was joking, and they both laughed, though for Harry's part, it was rather forced.
"That is all for tonight," Headmaster Dumbledore announced, "though I rather suspect it's quite enough for one day, by any measure. Your time is, once again, your own."
As the crowds rose from every house table, Harry noticed the topic of discussion couldn't go in any other direction, and by the time they made their way back to the Gryffindor Common Room, Harry was thoroughly on edge. The entire house was deep in discussions over the eligibility of various witches and wizards, over whether those who were already regarded couples would attend together, and of the various odds over said couples breaking up in time to make one or both parties available. Harry entrenched himself solidly on one of the squashy sofas and drifted into a state of semi-consciousness while staring into the fire. He kept an ear to the conversation, but for the most part reviled in his self-pity.
"…to the ball, Harry?" Harry started, and glanced up to see Emer Rath looking down at him with her keen black eyes.
"I'm sorry?" He said, a gnawing feeling growing in the pit of his stomach. Emer laughed shamelessly.
"Are. You. Going. To the ball?"
"Oh," he replied slowly, "I dunno, I mean, probably, I've asked someone, but they're not really my thing."
"Not your thing? You don't like socially acceptable excuses for holding women?"
"Women frighten me, frankly."
"Don't admit that, Harry, or half your charm will go up in flames!" She winked, and Harry smiled in spite of himself. His mind wandered back to the conversation he'd had with Parvati.
"So who's the lucky girl?" Emer asked. She was trying her best to look innocent but Harry was fairly certain he knew what she was up to.
"I, uh, shouldn't say anything until she says 'yes'; you know how it is."
"Oh, of course!" Emer winked and turned away, making a beeline straight for Seamus.
"Right," Ron said from the side of his mouth. "There's no way you've asked anyone anything. You've been next to me, doing remedial potions all night!"
"I know," Harry replied.
"So, when are you going to ask her?" Harry didn't even bother to pretend he didn't know who Ron was talking about. They both glanced surreptitiously at Parvati and Lavender. Neville and Connor were chatting them up, and all four were laughing loudly.
"Mate, you don't need me to tell you what to do, but she's bloody gorgeous, and if you don't get on it fast…"
"I know, I know. Someone else will."
"Well, as long as you know that," Ron said quietly. "She really is…"
"Yes Ron, I get it. You're not helping." They both sat in silence for a few minutes before Harry spoke again. "I'm sorry…it's just…hard, you know? I mean, I'm sure you and Hermione just kind of naturally happened, or whatever, but I'm totally lost here."
"Anything I can do?"
"Not unless you can explain women to me, or deal with dark wizards."
"Dark wizards, maybe. Women…you're on your own." Ron flashed Harry a tremendous and goofy grin, and Harry once again found himself smiling.
"I don't suppose feeling bad's going to solve either problem, is it?"
"Hasn't worked for me yet," Ron replied, "and believe me, I've tried."
"She is gorgeous, isn't she?" Harry mused.
"Top notch," his friend replied candidly.
It took a good deal longer than usual for the Common Room to quiet down, thanks primarily to Professor Dumbledore's dinner-time bombshell. Many students remained clumped together and exchanging whispers far later than usual, and Harry slipped in and out of his self-induced trance whenever the opportunities arose. He was getting good at maintaining some awareness of what was going on around him while lost within the haze of his own clear mind, though he was starting to suspect that he'd never be able to do it and remain fully functional. For one, it played havoc with his reflexes, which in his opinion were part of his greatest strengths.
Even so, the quality of his rest had improved markedly, and Harry thought for that reason alone, the skill had been worth the effort. It did, on occasion, cause him to blank out for short periods of time, which was how he missed Parvati slipping out of the Gryffindor Common Room.
Lavender was sitting on one of the larger chairs, wedged in next to a very sleepy-looking Neville Longbottom. Connor looked to be asleep; sprawled out lazily on a sofa with three girls piled around him, and Ron and Hermione were playing a game of chess. Various other Gryffindors were scattered about the cozy room, and Harry's first thought upon coming to his senses was that it looked as if a classroom had thrown up, and the students had simply remained where they had fallen.
He briefly considered running up to his dormitory to check the Map, but he was certain he knew where Parvati was without it. After scanning the room through his nearly-closed eyelids, he grasped the handle of his wand in his finger-tips and mouthed the incantation for a disillusionment charm. He arose carefully and made his way through the Common Room without stepping on anyone or being looked at directly, and slipped through the portrait hole.
"And where do you think you're going, young man?" Harry jumped. He'd been hoping the Fat Lady would sleep through his nocturnal foray. Puzzle pieces fell together in his head, and he spoke before he realized his mouth was open.
"I'm going to ask a girl to the ball…a very beautiful, very smart, very kind girl…do you think I have a chance? I mean, do I look alright? And you haven't heard anything, well, really bad about me, have you?" He did his best to look pathetic and sad.
"Oh!" She looked momentarily confused. "Well, then…ah…of course I do! Why, you're one of the best young men I know; that's what I always tell Violet! And you look fine…devilishly handsome!"
"Wish me luck then?"
"Of course! Good luck, my boy!" The fat lady leaned forward and whispered loudly, "Not like you'll need it, I'm sure!"
"You're too sweet!" Harry replied, smiling what he hoped was a winsome smile, while turning to go. "Oh," he paused, "you will keep this…you know…between you and me?"
"Wouldn't dream of telling anyone else! My lips are sealed!" She pinched her rather large lips together and made a show of not being able to open her mouth, and Harry continued on his way, quite proud of himself.
Parvati was on the top of the Astronomy Tower, leaning against one of the huge merlons, gazing to the north-west and taking notes in a small journal. The only other people on the tower were a pair of Hufflepuffs who looked thoroughly interested in each-other; though one did flash Harry a thumbs-up as he made his way to Parvati's side.
"Not bad out, for a clear night," she said lightly as he approached.
"Not at all," Harry agreed, and since he'd taken the precaution of casting a warming charm before he exited the castle, it was especially true. "So, what do you see?"
"Mars."
"War," Harry replied.
"Conflict," Parvati corrected. She looked off in another direction. "Venus."
"Love? Love and war…er…conflict. That doesn't make much sense."
"The future is nebulous, Harry." It was something Professor Trelawny might have said, but instead of sounding melodramatic and chintzy, Parvati sounded wistful; almost sad. "You'd know all about that, what with the prophecy and all." Harry could tell she was smiling, even though her face was hidden as she looked to the sky.
"So, do you believe in prophecies then?"
"Oh, of course."
"Really?" Harry pressed.
"Our minds are terribly powerful things…who's to say they don't pick a few things up along the line?" Harry remained silent. "That's not to say that I believe most prophecies, because I don't."
"Really?"
"Really," she announced certainly. "You have to admit, an awful lot of prophecies seem to be at the most self-fulfilling, or at the very least, an educated guess by someone who's somehow picked up a little more than the rest of us. Maybe diviners are really just very good at putting together all the pieces."
"Could be," Harry admitted, "I hadn't really given it that much thought."
"No? What about the prophecy about you? There really is one, isn't there?" This time, Parvati turned and looked directly at Harry, awaiting his answer. She looked as if she already knew.
"Yeah. There is." Harry kept a very keen eye on her, and she smiled pensively again.
"You're the kind of guy these things happen to."
"I'd be happier if I wasn't."
"Perhaps." She gazed at Harry for a while, and he wanted to look away, but he couldn't. Her eyes shone in the starlight, and Harry felt even warmer than the charm could account for. Then she looked back to the sky.
"Funny, how it has to get dark before we can see things clearly, sometimes."
"Parvati?"
"Yes, Harry?"
"I was wondering, well, the thing is, there's this ball, you know?"
"This ball? The Yule Ball, you mean!"
"Yeah, of course. Anyhow, I was wondering; would you like to go to the Yule Ball with me?"
"I seem to remember us doing this before. I don't particularly fancy being left to fend for my self for the second time by the same person."
"I won't do that," Harry insisted, "I promise. It could be like a Muggle Studies class, only we're allowed to talk."
"And dance."
"Of course!"
"And you'll be there with me, lusting after Hermione? I know how you feel about her, Harry, we've had that discussion."
"That's the thing," Harry said, "You were absolutely right. I mean, we've never dated. We've never really kissed. And it's obvious that we'll stay friends whether…well, no matter what. I can live with that, that's good enough for me."
"So what would you say if she came in here right now and asked you to the Yule Ball?"
"Well first of all, Ron asked her about two seconds after the Headmaster announced it, so I doubt that's going to happen, and if it did, I'd say maybe. Unless you said yes first, in which case I'd say that I was going with you."
"Good answer," she admitted. "Harry, don't get me wrong…I just don't want to end up sitting by myself again, hoping that someone will notice me. It sounds petty, I know, with everything else going on…"
"No!" Harry exclaimed, "not at all." He stared dumbly at Parvati; talking to her was getting easier, but at times, he was still at a loss for words. With a blink, he realized that they'd been staring at each other for a long time now.
"Knut for your thoughts?"
"I'd like to dance with you," Harry said without thinking. Parvati smiled, and this time, she certainly blushed.
"It's getting rather late," she said at last, "we should probably go back to the Common Room."
"Uh, yeah," Harry said, somewhat dazed. He snapped out of the stupor he was in long enough to notice that sometime during their conversation, they'd clasped hands, and now Parvati was very close to him indeed. In fact, he could just feel her brushing against him, and when she spoke, her breath was warm on his chin.
The voice in his head returned long enough to warn him that if he shook Parvati's hand this time, things would get very, very bad. Before he could lose his nerve, Harry slid his hands up Parvati's arms and rested them on her shoulders. He pulled her forward with his fingertips and kissed her lips. After several moments, they broke apart, and it was all Harry could do not to look away. He could feel his face growing hot as he was almost certainly blushing madly, and he could feel Parvati's hot breath flowing over his neck and cheek.
It wasn't a long kiss, or a short kiss; it wasn't passion-filled or empty. There were no fireworks, but his chest did ache fiercely, though he wasn't exactly sure if that had been on account of the kiss or the cold night air.
What he did know was that he had kissed a girl, she had kissed him back, and no-one had cried before, during, or after; and that made it a very good time, in his book.
"We really need to be getting back," she said, "we're dangerously close to what everyone thinks we're up to. Harry pondered that as they turned to go. He left one arm around Parvati's shoulders. She casually draped an arm around his waist, and he tried to think about something else as they passed the two Hufflepuffs, who were by now very interested in each other. The one that had flipped Harry the thumbs-up earlier managed a tiny wave, which was no small feat; Harry was left wondering how he'd managed to get his hand free so quickly. Perhaps he'd used magic?
"We're going to have problems with the Fat Lady, I just know it," Parvati whispered.
"Why?"
"A boy and a girl, coming back at…" she pulled Harry's hand from her shoulder, yanking him tightly against her, and read the luminescent face of his watch. "…at two in the morning? She's not going to let an opportunity like that go by."
Harry was just starting to grow worried himself—He pictured the look on Hermione's face when the two of them came in together—but when they reached the Fat Lady, instead of scolding or teasing them, she looked Parvati up and down, with an acutely appraising eye.
"Spot on!" she said, nodding slightly with a proud look on her face. "My, but you are a handsome couple! Password, dears?"
"Constant Vigilance," Parvati said, with an odd look on her face. As the portrait opened and they stepped through, Harry could have sworn the Fat Lady winked, and that there were tears in her eyes.
The next several days flew by, and before Harry knew it, it was time for his Tuesday D.A. meeting. He spent most of his time trying to convince them that their best chance was to run away. He was sure they believed him, but all the same, they looked mostly disappointed at the prospect of having to run away. By far the worst were the Gryffindors, who felt that running away was an insult. The Slytherins and Ravenclaws at least understood the value of the strategic withdrawing.
"Alright," Harry said, glancing to Ron, Neville, and Cho, who were three of the faster wands in the advanced D.A. group. "It's apparent you don't get this part, so we're going to arrange a demonstration. Sigile!" The marking spell was one that Harry had picked up while studying sigils. A glob of deep red paint streaked from the tip of his wand and smacked Dennis Creevey on the chest. "You can counter that with a simple Protego. Care to take your chances against the four of us?" A moment observing the students told him the answer. He turned to his friends, who all nodded back at him. "All right then: the four of us against all of you. Use any spells you know to try to stop us, but don't hurt anyone. If you're tagged, sit down." He paused, making sure that his instructions sunk in. "Ready?"
Harry took a page out of Connor's book and shot a stream of small butterflies into the middle of the room, which elicited laughs from quite a few students. A few weren't distracted, and managed to fire off a variety of hexes and jinxes, which Harry's group countered or dodged easily, and in the first barrage, nearly a dozen D.A. members were covered in red and blue marks. Several moments later, there were three students left standing, and they were frozen in place, staring down four rock-steady wands.
"Get the picture?" Ron said. Harry considered it a lesson well-spent.
"Ready, Harry?" Hermione and Harry were sitting at their table with an array of books sitting open before them. The sounds of the common room were filtered out by the silencing charm that surrounded them, and it worked both ways. No one in the Common Room would hear a word from their table. Eavesdroppers were everywhere, after all, even among their friends.
"Do you have the sigil, Harry."
"Yes, Hermione."
"Do you have the book?"
"Yes, Hermione."
"And you've brought something to test them on?"
"Yes, Hermione." Hermione flashed Harry a dirty look. "I'm sorry. It's just a pain even having to bother with this." Hermione eyed the bit of clay in Harry's hand.
"I hate that your sigil is a target."
"Well, join the club. I hate being a target." Hermione sighed noisily.
"I guess now we see if we did it right." Harry knew that changing the topic was a good idea, unless he wanted to get into a row.
"You're the only one who can do it," she replied. She twirled her wand in the air in a movement that was familiar to Harry after hours of studying the various charms and runes texts. Harry had done it himself at least a hundred times; even leaving a trail of sparks to highlight any possible mistakes. The motion ended with him tapping the small hunk of nearly-indestructible clay. The incantation was long and mostly forgettable, which was fine, since Harry wouldn't use it again unless he made a new signet. Nothing happened. He looked nervously to Hermione, who clearly had been expecting something more.
"I don't understand it! We did everything right! I know we did! I'll have to…" Harry cut her off, taking the lump and tapping the inside cover of the book they'd used to take notes on the process.
"Sigillum!" A blue ring pulsed outward from the signet and hovered briefly over the book, where it then sunk into the paper, glimmered, and vanished. Harry gritted his teeth and looked to Hermione, who had a hopeful smile tugging at her cheeks.
"Remember, we added the subtlety charm to the signet. You're the only one who can trigger the sigil." She said, quietly, leaning over the book. Harry nodded and took a deep breath, and then tapped the spot where the rune had vanished with his wand. A twinkling blue bull's-eye appeared on the page, shining faintly in the dim light. Harry lifted his wand and the rune vanished.
"Your turn," Harry said, quietly. Hermione reached out hesitantly, holding her wand over the spot where the sigil lay hidden. Then she tapped the spot, and then tried again several more times, attempting to force the rune to show itself with various detection spells.
None worked. It was the biggest smile he'd seen on Hermione's face in a while. "Now Harry; you have to put this on all of your things! No exceptions! And you have to do it soon…I can't stomach the though of someone trying to pass you something that could be cursed, or another port-key, or worse!"
"I promise, Hermione. I'll spend all day tomorrow at it, if I have to."
As it turned out, Harry did spend most of the next day putting sigils on everything he owned, in between classes.
"Bloody socks…bloody shirts…bloody ties…"
Ron looked on with amusement, and when Seamus and Dean had been through earlier, they knew better than to even ask. Ron had helped Harry place wards on his chest, bed, and bureau, and he'd gotten a rough account of the tedium Harry and Hermione had gone through creating the signet, so he knew the lengths to which Hermione and Harry had gone to achieve the spell.
"Bloody brilliant, if you ask me."
"Yeah, it's fantastic. Hand me those books, will you?" Ron lifted the stack with a grunt and placed it on the floor by Harry's bed. Harry didn't even glance at them, as he was currently occupied with his robes.
"New dress robes too, then," Ron remarked casually. Harry stopped what he was doing, with his new, emerald green dress robes in his hands.
"Oh, no," Harry murmured.
"What?" Ron suddenly looked worried. "Those are yours, aren't they?
Harry looked at his friend.
"Can you dance?"
"Not a lick."
"And Hermione doesn't mind?"
"Of course she minds. I've been trying to learn from Ginny, but it's hard, you know? I feel weird trying to dance with her."
"I wonder if she'd help me," Harry mused aloud.
"I, er…I probably wouldn't recommend that, as my duty to you, as your mate, and her big brother."
"Why?"
"It's Ginny, mate! Granted, she's a little more grown up now, but you're still you and she's still her…and she's known you almost as long as me. You're tough to ditch, you know?"
"Why, Ronald," Harry batted his eyes and gazed endearingly at his friend, "I never knew you cared!"
"Shove off, prat!" Ron flung a handful of Harry's own socks while guffawing loudly. It was the kind of laugh that Harry was happy to hear.
"So Ginny's out. Who then?"
"What about Hermione?" Ron suggested.
"I, uh, would feel weird, learning to dance with your date, you know?"
"Oh, come on!"
"I know," Harry paused. He wasn't brave enough to admit to one of his best friends that he had seriously fancied the other, and on some level, still did. Ron had just taken a very big step…normally he was as jealous as anyone Harry knew. "It's just, it would feel funny, you know?"
"Can you ask Parvati?" One look from Harry answered that suggestion. "What about someone else…Lavender, maybe? You seem to get on well with her."
"Nah. She's alright, but I need to find someone outside of this whole mess. She'll be trying to pry information out of me all night."
"Well, that might be fun, but whatever you say." Ron and Harry both glanced up as Dean shot into the room and dove over his bed, landing on the floor and pulling his bed cloths over him, which made a surprisingly effective bit of camouflage. Before he pulled a pillow over his head, he coughed several times, flashed them a knowing look, and then held his finger over his mouth and very softly whispered:
"Shhhhh!"
"Where is he?" Seamus Finnegan skidded to a stop just inside the boys' dormitory.
"What?" Harry managed to look innocent and surprised, and he was aided by the fact that Seamus was a brilliantly glowing purple and seemed to have sprouted curling horns, pointed ears, and what looked like a white tuft of a tail. He had skidded because his legs had been transfigured into those of a goat, complete with shaggy tufts above resplendently violet hooves.
"What the bloody hell happened to you?" Ron exclaimed. One glance at his friend convinced Harry that Ron wasn't totally ignorant of the situation.
"Oh, like you have to ask…it's was your brothers that came up with this, and don't be telling me otherwise!" Seamus's eyes widened suddenly. "M-a-a-aaa."
There was a stunned silence. 'Did Seamus just bleat like a goat?' though Harry. From the corner of his eye, he thought that he saw the pile of bedclothes covering Dean shaking slightly. He was either laughing or suppressing another coughing fit. Seamus clopped another few steps into the room.
"Damn it, Weasley!" He glanced around. "You're sure he didn't come in here?" Seamus squinted at Harry carefully, and Harry found himself thinking Dean had a bit of luck that it wasn't Ron under Seamus's scrutiny. Even without looking directly at his friend, Harry was now certain Ron knew what was going on. The only thing that saved Harry was that he was just as clueless as Seamus.
"I don't even know who you're looking for," Harry finally said.
"Dean! Dean Thomas! My friend Dean Thomas, who turned me into a big…purple…goat boy!" Seamus screwed his face up, and could finally contain it no longer. "M-A-A-AA! Damn it!" He took one last, long glance around the room, and then spun on his hooves and clopped back down the stairs, cursing loudly.
They waited several moments, until at last Harry said, "I think it's safe, now."
Slowly, Dean emerged from his temporary cocoon.
"So," Harry began, "mind explaining that?" He looked from Ron to Dean, who were both trying very hard to appear as innocent as possible, and failing miserably. "Oh, don't give me some line. I know just as well as Seamus that Fred and George are somehow involved, and that means you," he pointed at Ron, "and I don't think anyone would run in here like you did unless he was guilty of something. Besides, I saw you laughing."
"That was bloody brilliant!" Ron exclaimed, grinning widely at Dean.
"You're telling me! And the purple, well, that was a surprise, but I think I enjoyed it!"
"So you are in on it together," Harry proclaimed smugly. "Go on then, spill it."
"Would you believe 'Satyr Sweets'?" Ron moved to dig something from the battered chest at the foot of his bed, and tossed Harry a small candy in sparkling cellophane with tiny goats wandering over the package. One, which looked to be in the process of eating the corner of the wrapping, looked up at Harry and moved its lips in a silent blat. Harry smiled as he thought of Seamus, somewhere in the building, making noises like a billy-goat.
"You'd better be prepared for writing Fred and George; they'll want to know how things went as soon as possible."
"He wasn't exactly supposed to turn purple, was he?" Dean was now looking at his own Satyr Sweet.
"Dunno," Ron replied. "I mean, you can understand being turned into a satyr, but being turned purple? That's just weird." Dean nodded sagely, and then cast an eye on Harry's tremendously messy bed, stacked with books, cloths, papers, and everything he had as Hogwarts.
"What are you two doing up here anyway?"
"Talking about the dance," Ron replied, digging through a small box he'd liberated from his locker.
"What, about who you're taking?"
"Naw," Ron said. "We're trying to decide who can help Harry learn to dance." Harry gave Ron a dirty look, and Ron shrugged his shoulders. "What? It's not like Dean can't help. Maybe he knows someone who could give you a lesson or two."
"You'd think there'd be scads of women looking to dance with you, Harry. Why not just pick out the prettiest? That's what I did…whoa, whoa now!" Ron was glaring menacingly at Dean, who'd backed up. "Calm down Ron! All's I said was that she was the prettiest!" Dean backed away, but his protests were cut off by another spell of coughing. "C'mon, you can't fault a bloke for noticing!"
"It's my little sis you're going on about, mate! Not some…hussy! And watch where you're spraying. I don't much care for your grippe."
"You know her," Dean shot back. "Really think she'd hang around with me if I wasn't good to her?" This seemed to pacify Ron temporarily. "Anyway," Dean continued, "it's not like you can't just ask Connor, is it?"
"What?" both Harry and Ron asked at once.
"Connor! He's some kind of dancer, isn't he?"
Harry felt like an idiot. One of the first conversations he and Connor had was about dancing.
"You're a genius." Harry pronounced. Dean grinned widely, and held out a hand.
"Candy, Harry?"
"Not on your life. I'm sweet enough."