A/N

Dr Stranger: „At a certain point you'd expect Dumbledore to adjust his plans a bit."

That's an interesting point I noticed in many stories. Often you see: Dumbledore betrays Harry, Harry realizes the betrayal (often with the help of the Goblins), Harry bashes Dumbledore and his plans; Dumbledore has no idea how to handle the 'new Harry' and doesn't react in any way, resulting in an active Harry and a very passive Dumbledore.

I only remember a very small number of stories with a Dumbledore who is able to invent new plans, especially halfway decent ones, not the kind of plans that the "new Harry" smashes instantly. I'll think about that.

Becuzitswrong, N Flamel: Thank you for your reviews.

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The Yule Ball (Part 2)

Hogwarts – 21st of December

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The large door opened and the four Champions entered the Great Hall under the eyes of hundreds of guests. To Harry's relief, Cedric had convinced Fleur to take the leading position. Professor McGonagall had wanted him to be in front because of his age and Harry was certain that he would have died of embarrassment with all eyes resting on him. In this manner Fleur Delacour – much more used to this kind of attention – would be his living shield and outshine everybody else.

Even Roger Davis now prompted Harry to relax a bit and be amused by his ogling, Roger's steps faltering more than once as he was unable to draw his eyes away from the Veela at his side. "Attention," Fleur hissed as Roger again nearly caused her to trip.

"You're doing magnificently," Daphne whispered to Harry, her voice much sweeter than Fleur's to her partner. Did Fleur regret her choice now, Harry wondered. To his surprise neither her swaying hips nor her Veela charm made much of an impression on him. Perhaps it was his Occlumency training that shielded him. Or he was simply too jittery at the moment. "It's easy with such a wonderful lady at my side," Harry whispered back, realizing a few seconds too late what he said. He blushed furiously and glanced in Daphne's direction. Had he been too forward? But apparently she accepted the compliment with grace and a soft smile of those sweet lips. Bad thoughts, bad thoughts, Harry scolded himself.

His jitters came back in full force as they reached the center of the dance floor and took positions for the opening waltz. "Breathe," Daphne smiled. "You can do this, we trained for this."

Harry smile was a bit forced but he was able to blank out the crowd of spectators and concentrated on the only person that was important now, the young woman in his arms. Without hesitation he made his first step as the music began, and whirled her around, his mind only marginally noticing the other three pairs around them. With her heels, Daphne was only an inch smaller than he and her eyes rested on his for the whole dance. Only once or twice did his look waver and glide along the sight of her bare shoulders, her long black hairs drawing his attention to the soft skin.

"You're doing fine," Daphne whispered and Harry sighed happily. She wanted to say something else, something about how well the physical training in the last months had helped to develop his shoulders and arms, changing from the scrawny boy to his now much more athletic frame. But a compliment like that would only trouble him, embarrass him, especially now and here. Perhaps she could tell him later. Scrawny – she had spoken with Poppy about that, and why she never said anything about Harry's condition to Dumbledore. The answer had been disturbing but not really astonishing: I told him, more than once.

He knew? He knew and he did nothing? Daphne was aware that her mother and Grandma still thought of Dumbledore as an ally in the fight against the Deatheaters – an ally to be careful around, but still an ally. Daphne wasn't sure about this anymore: Ignoring Harry's welfare like this in the past, missing the chance to train him properly, and his behavior around the point of her mother adopting Harry: Dumbledore had acted more like an obstacle than a supporter in the past.

"Why such a grim face," Harry asked with a small smile.

Daphne sighed: "Only thinking about something."

"The fate of the world?"

"Something like that," Daphne grinned. "And you, enjoying your last relaxed hours this year?"

"Why? Have you planned something… strenuous?"

His innuendo caused Daphne to blush slightly and she gave him a small slap on his arm. "No, but as I know Mum and especially Grandma, they'll have a two-week-training-plan in mind for you. And Aunt Anne is visiting."

"Is this good or…"

"It's good, strenuous but good," Daphne smiled thoughtfully. "You remember, she is the one with the poison detection book I gave Hermione. And she was the one to introduce the hobby of riding to our family."

Our family, Harry thought, a warm glow of joy growing in his stomach: Our family. "Ah, yes, I remember. She's your Mum's sister, I suppose – hopefully not your father's?"

"Neither," Daphne responded. "Let me think: she is… was… the daughter-in-law of Grandma's cousin. 'Was' because her husband died twelve years ago. But she's still very close to us, visiting quite often when she's able to leave her work in Barcelona. She has a strong feminist touch, you'll see, but she's… simply awesome – my absolute favourite aunt."

"Oh, she's working in Barcelona?" Harry had long forgotten the crowd around them, missed the end of the waltz. That had been dancing for nearly half an hour now, the dance floor filled with many pairs , now brave enough to show their own 'talent' at dancing after watchingthe happy couple. Luckily Harry didn't realize the large number of eyes resting on him.

"Yes," Daphne confirmed. "She's Spanish, you know. Her real name is Ana – spoken something like Anja – Katharina Hernandez. There are many more middle names and surnames with 'di something or other', I've never been able to memorize them. But she allowed us to call her Aunt Anne for simplicity."

"I'm curious about meeting her."

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Dumbledore was a very unhappy headmaster at the moment.

Neither the approaching Christmas feast, nor the joy of the students and teachers around him were able to alter his mood. It had all begun with the appearance of Sirius Black last year. He had barely mastered the problem through forcing Harry's godfather back into hiding only to have another, even greater problem arise in the guise of Lady Roxanne Greengrass, née Pinegrew.

The Pinegrews had been a problem as far back as the early eighties. Agatha Pinegrew, in particular, had been a thorn in his side even after he was able to cause a split between her and the teachers of Hogwarts, Minerva being the most important one but Filius Flitwick and Poppy Pomfrey not far behind. In contrary to Sirius, he wouldn't be able to legally drive a wedge between Lady Greengrass and the Potter-boy. Her standing was far too solid, the connections of her family far too widespread. Agatha Pinegrew even belonged to the board of governors and could cause more than a few problems should he defy her family too openly.

Apparently the trouble with her had already begun. The Occlumency teachings given to Potter and Granger carried her thumbprint far too openly. Potter, always the emotional one and unused to any kind of self-control, had made far too great strides for his liking since the summer break. It would be much more difficult to manipulate him, and if he wasn't able to break that contact very fast it could be too late.

Dumbledore shuddered as he thought of the Occlumency abilities Daphne Greengrass and Hermione Granger had shown at his last try to enter their mind. Greengrass was apparently very sensitive and able to detect his mind-probing far faster than could be expected from a girl of her age and experience. And Granger's mind shield was already incredible strong. Only a few more months and he wouldn't be able to break them without a strong distraction or the use of a sledgehammer method. Hopefully Potter would never be able to reach a comparable level of Occlumency, but Dumbledore wasn't certain of that.

That he hadn't forbidden Agatha Pinegrew to enter the compound of Hogwarts had been another grave error. Since her conversation with Minerva, his hitherto staunchest supporter had changed. The first strike had been the casting of protection spells on the Champions. It had casted doubts on his abilities to protect them properly. At least only a few persons knew that it had been her idea, and not his like he declared to the Minister. Then, there had been the case of her ban of that Potter-badge and the arrangement with Sprout and Flitwick to forbid the use of the term Mudblood. How bad could the use of one word be? Was it worth annoying a large number of Pureblood families? He already had the inglorious reputation of a Muggle-lover and Blood traitor. These incidents certainly didn't help, irrespective of his non-existing support of the whole idea.

And now Minerva had openly declared among the teachers that she supported the idea of Potter being adopted into the Pinegrew family. Madam Pomfrey had been her first supporter, with Madam Sprout and Professor Flitwick not far behind. Even Severus, who still hated the boy, hadn't been very outspoken in his critic.

The headmaster's eyes wandered to Professor Moody, his old friend. He sighed as he thought about how things had changed. Apparently the past years hadn't been good to his old battle companion. Too much had happened and influenced his mind. Moody had always been paranoid and way too aggressive in his tactics. Perhaps he should have expected that Moody would show the Unforgivables to the students, but the use of the Imperio on them was a bit too far even for Dumbledore. Naturally he had protected him nonetheless against any critic.

And then there was the matter of his memory. More than once Moody had scrambled his memories about past battles and funny moments. Dumbledore sighed again. The critics of Moody weren't totally wrong. He would have to search for another DADA teacher next summer – again.

At least he had been able to implement the information about the Goblet and insert Potter into the tournament. Dumbledore had been surprised by the tactic used but in the end flying was one of Potter's strengths. That he had spent more than one afternoon training with the Greengrass girl had been a drop of bitterness.

No, he had to sow dissension between them – and fast. It was only a question of time before Roxanne Greengrass started to ask questions about the Potter wealth, and find some secrets Dumbledore didn't want to be shared. That he had been able to convince Sirius to make the house of his family available had been a small success, one of his few in the past months. But he hadn't been willing to donate more money to the cause than needed to maintain the house. No, Dumbledore still needed the Potter money, rather more than before, and certainly not less.

And a split-up would make Molly Weasley a happy Molly, something Dumbledore needed after the debacle around Ginny Weasley and that stupid cat.

Yes, Dumbledore decided: He would use the winter break to make some plans.

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The buffet was quite impressive. The house elves, with the help of the students of Durmstrang and Beauxbatons, had tried to integrate a wide collection of meals from France and Eastern Europe. Among many other students, Harry and Daphne stood in line and collected a mix of nibbles. But, in contrast to those around them, they took their time and made an effort to decorate the plates carefully, gently placing radish roses and grapes.

Daphne, who was preparing Harry's plate, smiled as she watched her 'brother' preparing her snack. For a moment it crossed her mind how well he already knew her and her tastes. Once he had complimented her hearty appetite, not sharing the preference of many other girls to stick to some salad and an apple. Yes, she preferred lean meat, but meat nonetheless. And her secret kink was a sandwich with salty butter, thick coated with liverwurst and a single slice of cucumber. Grandma was always laughing about her silly taste but still willing to prepare it on special days.

With a small sigh Daphne put a single slice of bacon and a small fried sausage on Harry's dish. He had started to eat healthier but was still boy enough to enjoy these fatty snacks from time to time. Hopefully he was very careful while eating. Oil stains on robes weren't becoming.

"Balou would love to pillage these tables," Harry grinned.

Daphne giggled and nodded happily. "Do you remember the one evening we noticed how the plate with ham was slightly moving? He was sitting on a chair very careful to stay out of sight while he nibbled at the edge of the ham slab."

Harry grinned: "Yeah, Roxanne nearly had an apoplexy. Luckily he was fast enough to flee."

Grabbing a jug of apple juice and two tumblers – Ciddy had started to provide them with that alternative to the ever present pumpkin juice – they searched for a quiet place to enjoy their meal. Grinning, Harry thought happily about Balou and his pranks. The tomcat had needed two weeks of intensive care to recover fully, but now he was as active and agile as before. Without hesitation he had given Balou to his former healer and since then Balou and Daphne had been inseparable in the evenings. Relaxed and only softly purring, he demanded a place at Daphne's side when she was reading in the library or working on her assignments in the Slytherin common room. The story of how she had beaten Ginny – proven by the very visible nose splint – had gone around and certainly had done much to secure Balou's life around the snakes.

He should have done that from the start, Harry sighed. He shouldn't have given the tomcat for Ginny to care. It was his fault that…

"Stop that," Daphne interrupted his thoughts, slapping his arm forcefully.

Harry grinned weakly and nodded slightly. Like Hermione, Daphne was able to read his thoughts, especially when he was brooding. More than once one of the girls had told him to stop blaming himself. Perhaps with their help he would be able to do so, one day.

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For a peaceful hour they spoke softly about all kind of nonsense and shared happy smiles and glances around. They watched how Dean and Seamus tried hard to be the most gallant cavaliers to Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown. Most of the other students apparently enjoyed the evening, the last before they returned to their families for the winter break. Suddenly, it was the shrill voice of Katie Bell that announced the end of this time of Christmas wonder.

"What do you want, Weasley?" Katie's face was red with anger. Viktor was not in sight and Katie's conversation partner was no one else than Ronald Bilius Weasley. Daphne's happiness was chased away in a blink of an eye, disgust and anger replacing any happy feeling that had been dominating on the girl's face for the last hour, a happiness that caused Harry to enjoy this evening like none before.

"Why are you here… with him?" Ron whined. "He's so wrong, he's the enemy. You have to support Cedric and not this son of a bitch."

"Are you crazy? It is my decision whom I chose to date. It is certainly not your business which Champion I support. And in case you have forgotten: there are two Champions of Hogwarts. Remember Harry? You know: The Harry who had been your best mate for three years; Harry without the help of whom you'd never been part of our Quidditch team."

"But you could have gone with me instead of Vicky," Ron whined again, choosing to ignore the part about his team position.

"Don't call him Vicky, you ass. His name is Viktor and I remember quite well how much you adored him last summer and how eager you have been the past months to get his autograph," Katie hissed, her stance telling clearly how agitated she was now. "And no: accompanying you was never an option, especially not after your little 'I only want a delicious birdie at my side' speech. These" she pointed at her breasts "you'll never see because these" Katie targeted at her eyes "had never been of interest to you, not to mention those small unimportant things called heart, character or brain."

Obviously Ron was unhappy and not able to see reason, but as he opened his big mouth again, his sister stepped between him and Katie: "Leave it alone, Ron. We really messed up enough this year to last for a long time. You don't have to unfairly insult Katie now."

Ron, totally ignorant to his sister's small speech rambled on and on. But nobody listened. All bystanders were too shocked by Ginny's reaction. That she would try to stop her brother from insulting someone and especially Katie, who had been reason for her eviction from the team, was more than a little surprising. And while Harry knew that Ginny had a talent for play-acting, her words seemed genuine enough. She looked so timid, depressed and vulnerable now. Apparently she was really shocked by the repercussions of the last few weeks. It remained to be seen how long the effect lasted, but perhaps she would really learn from that experience. He had no interest to renew their friendship, but perhaps it would help her in the future.

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With a sigh Ginny turned away, hastily avoiding the eyes of Harry and Daphne. The past weeks had been hard. Formerly the Gryffindor princess, beloved and adored as the twins' baby sister, the upcoming Quidditch star and close friend to Harry Potter and Hermione Granger, she had lost it all. Nobody was speaking to her, at least nobody whose attention she wanted. Hearing Malfoy congratulating her had been one of the most intensive eye-openers. It had hurt to leave the team only a few weeks after joining them. It had hurt to loose the love of the twins and the friendship of the incredible Gryffindor chaser trio. She had been very close to Katie despite the age difference and now they hadn't spoken a word for a month.

That Dumbledore had intervened on her behalf and prohibited an appropriate punishment had been much more obstructive than helpful. A short, harsh, disgusting or humiliating punishment would have been better to restore any semblance of normalcy regarding the other Gryffindors' behaviour towards her.

Father had been disappointed. The letter she got from him had been a silent one. No howler like her mother would have sent; no insults, no threats of punishment, simply sad disappointment. It had hurt her far more than any yelling would have. Charlie – who had learned about the matter from Fleur – had reacted quite the same. Charlie, her favourite brother. Charlie, the one she could always reckon on in times of hurt.

She had lost so much in that short moment of rage, not only the possible love of Harry but also his friendship and that of Hermione and many others. Ginny had no idea how to make up for that. She would like so much to turn back the time and undo it. Perhaps father would be willing to help her. Hopefully he would even speak with her over the winter break, listen to her thoughts and offer advice as he had done before… before she had started to follow mother's advice in the matter.

Molly would be there too, rambling about Harry and his ungratefulness, telling Ginny that she had to fight harder for her luck; that she had to strike back at the Greengrass girl. It had been like this in the last letters, and Molly's opinion wouldn't change in the future. She had always dreamed of Ginny being married to the boy-who-lived, with her son Ron as his famous sidekick, something like Batman and Robin – assuming that Molly reads Muggle comics. But apparently Ron was more the Sancho Panza type, unable to accomplish anything without his friends.

With a heavy heart Ginny left the Great Hall, leaving her dumb brother behind. This had been the saddest day of her life so far.

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"She was right," Daphne said with a low sigh as they left the Great Hall and entered the rose garden. After the fight between Katie and Ron, Daphne had needed a bit of fresh air and Harry had happily relented. Now they were walking with interlocked arms through the garden, enjoying the sight and smell of the roses, relishing the special light of the crackling torches.

"About what," Harry asked. "Viktor? Should I ask him if he's free for you? But I'm not sure about Katie's opinion in the matter," he continued teasingly.

"Not that, silly," Daphne smiled and administered the umpteenth punch to his arm this evening. Slowly Harry feared that he would have a small bruise there tomorrow. For a moment he wondered what was wrong as Daphne turned away, but then she asked: "What's the colour of my eyes?"

"Gray like the fog across the Black Lake on a morning in March," he responded without hesitation, the words 'mushy' and 'soppy' crossing his mind seconds later, a slight blush hidden through the darkness.

"Correct answer," Daphne looked at him and smiled. She stayed silent for a while, with emotions visible on her face. But they were happy ones and so Harry waited. Suddenly sparkling laughter erupted from her throat and she needed a moment to get her composure back: "Have you seen how Luna was pouncing on poor Michael as we left the Hall?"

"Yes, looked as if she was ready to snog him silly," Harry sniggered. "Perhaps we warned the wrong person about behaving correctly."

"I'm happy for her," Daphne responded with a soft smile. "Life hasn't been easy for her. It is hard to believe in things you aren't thought to believe, to act against the expectations of those around you."

Harry wasn't sure if she was still speaking about Luna or herself. "Yes, Luna has never been the most traditional one," he smiled. Harry looked around: "I only hope that we'll not be tripping over Hermione and Neville, snogging in some dark corner."

"I don't think so. Neville is still way too shy. His time spent with Hermione has done him a world of good, to him and his self-esteem, but still…"

"I know what you mean. And I think his vicinity has been good for Hermione too. She is much more relaxed now. And from time to time she is even willing to stop reading for him." Hermione's love for books had always been a point of insults in the past, especially on Ron's part. And while Harry loved this bookworm side of his friend, he was happy to see this new side of her, to see her smile far more often, see her enjoy life.

"Companionship is very important," Daphne declared with a low voice: "To have friends around you, to share ideas and emotions, to not be lonely in moments of joy and grief." The girl hesitated for a moment before she continued: "I'm happy to have you as a friend."

Her last words had only been a soft whisper and she had to wait a long time for an answer. Had she been wrong? She had hoped that Harry would reciprocate these feelings, that there was more than sympathy. Had she overestimated what he felt for her? Daphne tensed as he grabbed both of her hands and turned her towards him.

"The moment " he started, "I met your mother, had been the luckiest one for me for a very long time. My childhood wasn't very nice. When Sirius showed up last year, I was elated. Someone who loved me at last, I thought. Someone who was willing to be a real family for me. When he had to hide again, I was crushed. In that depressed moment your mother showed up, showed me a possible future. That you were willing to share this with me, despite the danger to your family, was incredible. I found not only a new mother but… a very dear friend."

Harry raised his hand, cupped her face and gently rubbed away the tears that had started to run down her face. "Hermione and you are the two most important friends I have. But while Hermione is the older sister I always wanted, you are…" Harry stopped, his courage leaving him for a moment. These eyes he always had on his mind... that aristocratic nose above those sweet lips... the porcelain skin that was a deep contrast to her black hair…

A rush of emotions went through his heart as he remembered the picture of a furious Daphne whirling through the Gryffindor common room, defending herself against Ginny's spells, pummeling her in pure rage because of Balou's injuries.

"You are…"

Harry lifted her hand, the one she had used to heal as well as to punish, and placed a light kiss on her knuckles.

"If you tell me now that I'm your little baby sister, I regretfully have to kill you slowly and painfully," Daphne whispered with a hoarse voice.

Harry shook his head, not trusting his own voice now. Slowly he leant forwards, towards her, his eyes locked onto her lips.

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Slytherin girls' dorm – some hours later

"Why," Daphne pondered, quarrelling with her memories and emotions, "why did the evening have to end like this?" She struggled hard to stay silent, to hold back her tears, and deny the sobs the right to leave her mouth. She didn't want to trouble Pansy and Millicent, not after what had happened. It had been so sweet in the beginning…

Staring at his lips Daphne watched Harry's face nearing her own. Her body was rigid, her heart hammering. She had been kissed before, simply to experience the feeling and a few times two years ago by Blaise, before he chose Tracey to be the one and only. But it had never been like this. His lips weren't as soft as her own, a bit rough, the contact gentle and tender at the beginning. As Harry shied away from her to see her reaction, Daphne had stopped him, put her arms around him and kissed him back. The second kiss was more intimate, longer. When they parted again a goofy grin appeared on his lips and Daphne feared that she did look equally silly. But she didn't regret the moment and hoped that he felt the same, would feel the same the next morning.

They had been in the garden for a long time, for hours perhaps, for eternity as her emotions told her. I want this night to last forever, she had once heard in a song. They had been holding hands, kissed a few more times. But Harry had behaved like a gentleman. Not like Roger Davis, who had – according to the rumours – started to grope Fleur until he was on the receiving end of some nasty hexes. In the end Professor McGonagall had ushered them into the castle again, looking far happier than Harry could remember ever having seen her. Most of the students had already been sleeping at that ungodly hour and Harry escorted her back to the Slytherin dorm, wanted her to be secure.

How could he have known? How could he have guessed?

As she entered the room she instantly noticed Theodore Nott and his two cronies, fifth year boys she had seen sometimes with him, bad apples even for Slytherin standards. Sensing the danger she hastily went towards the girls' staircase, hoping to reach it in time. But the boys had reacted too fast. In hindsight it had been clear that they had been waiting for her. One of them blocked her path, while the other one grabbed her arms roughly before she had a chance to pull her wand.

"Look who we've got here – Potter's little whore," Nott hissed. "Did he have enough of you for today? Haven't you disgraced the house of Slytherin enough already?" He backhand slapped her, bruising her cheek in the motion. Daphne only glared back, knowing that no answer would help her, that every word would only infuriate him even more.

Nott sighed exaggeratedly and looked at his two companions. "What shall we do with the little whore? Should we allow her to blemish the good name of our house even more? Or should we show her how to behave properly? Kissing a Gryffindor in publicity… yuck."

So they had watched them, Daphne pondered. She should have expected that, should have known…

Staring at Nott Daphne thought about what would happen next, how Harry and the others would react to the news. She had an idea of what Harry would do, and especially how he would blame himself for all what happened. Slowly her despair turned into anger, her defeat into determination. She had no chance against the three boys, but she wasn't willing to go down without a fight. The boy behind her had loosened the grip a bit and Nott obviously thought that he had the situation under control – at least until Daphne rammed her knee into his groin with all might. Gasping he went to his knees, the boy behind her dragging her away, but not fast enough to prevent her from kicking Nott into his face, nearly missing the nose but blackening his eye.

Nott was whining on the ground. The other boy left his position and slammed his fist into Daphne's stomach. A few further strikes hit her upper body, the grip preventing her from dodging them. Suddenly steps became audible on the staircase. Daphne's tormentor turned around, opening himself to a kick against his knee. The captor behind her let loose and went for his wand, only to lose it instantly.

"Expelliarmus!" Daphne would have never believed that she would ever love to hear Pansy's voice. A blink of an eye later a heavy body slammed into the boy whose knee Daphne had hurt moments ago and sent him sprawling to the floor. Ham-like fists pummeled him into the ground, while Daphne struggled to clear her vision. Disbelievingly she stared at Millicent whose face, red with fury, glared down on her victim while her fist connected again with his face.

"Petrificus totalus!" How often had they watched with amusement the poor spell casting of Pansy. But now, with her other tormentor frozen in magical bindings, nobody smiled. Several stinging hexes followed, as Daphne registered with joy. Sinking down on a chair she only noticed absently how Tracey left the boys' dorm with Blaise behind her. What would her mother say to this sight, she mused absently? Her friend hurried at Daphne's side while another Expelliarmus, this one casted by Blaise, disarmed Nott a second before a hissing ball of fur and fury launched itself onto Nott's face. He was able to protect his eyes only barely as four claws started to punish him, to scar his cheeks, neck and ears.

In the end he had to flee into the bathroom because even Daphne wasn't able to calm the tomcat down. Daphne, despite the former experience, couldn't help but burst out into laughter at the silly sight of the small cat in front of the door, trying to burrow his way into the room. Millicent stood up, but not without kicking her victim into the ribs one last time. Crabbe and Goyle watched her with adoration, and even Draco stayed silent as he noticed the expression on Pansy's face.

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With another sigh Daphne turned around in her bed. Balou's slow purring had an effect on her nerves and she sensed sleepiness overcome her mind.

Minutes later Professor Snape had been there and to her relief he had agreed to stay silent about the matter, at least for the moment. They would have to speak with the Headmaster about it after the winter break but she didn't want to spoil the mood. Harry and Hermione would be troubled deeply about the incident. Luckily, Madam Pomfrey had been able to heal the bruises, at least Daphne's.

The three tormentors had been sent home an hour later after a first interrogation by Professor Snape. With no small amount of joy, Daphne thought about the large number of cuts and bruises all three had shown. Madam Pomfrey had been unwilling to heal them and Daphne secretly hoped that the cuts Nott had received from Balou would get infected and hurt him for a while. But regretfully she wouldn't have so much luck, she feared.

She patted a last time the head of her small furry cavalier, before she turned around and slipped into a dream about Christmas at Pinegrew Manor.

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A/N

About Ginny: I know, many of you would like a continued Ginny bashing. But I intended not a "bad love potion administering Ginny" in this story but see a girl with a heavy crush, a vicious temper and bad influence (her mother and Dumbledore). Four weeks with everyone pushing her away, even most of her family members against her and with heavy repercussions on all sides should make an impact on a thirteen-year-old. She won't be "the nice one" suddenly, but at least she starts to think about it all. It remains to be seen what Molly's opinion is about the matter.

About Balou and the ham: That's a real episode of his life. We prepared a buffet for a family party and noticed that the ham was slightly moving. Balou was sitting on a chair, hidden by the table cloth and nibbling at the ham, carefully staying out of sight.