25th December 1994 - Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Glencoe Highlands, Scotland.
Somehow, Harry didn't think he was going to be overly fond of balls and other formal events that involved a lot of pageantry.
Using a hand to smooth out his pristine white jacket with its gold accents, he cast a look around at the other champions and their dates.
The rest of the school and staff had already made their way into the great hall to chat and mingle before the Ball's official commencement. It left the rest of them a brief few moments to settle themselves and to rehash the order of entry and what few things could be expected of them during the night.
Namely the opening dance and a small interview with the media.
Though from what Harry understood of it, the 'interview' was more of a photo opportunity with a few questions tagged on, all of which revolved around the Yule Ball itself rather than the tournament at large.
Beside him Professor McGonagall - dressed sharply in dark green formal robes over a matching gown - had been reiterating their order while the other champions guided their dates into place.
Cedric first, with his date Cho Chang, the homeground hero as it were.
As the champion of the hosting school he would lead the way and be the first to take up position on the dance floor.
Next along would be Fleur and Bill Weasley, who leaned into each other talking quietly around shy pleased smiles.
There had been a bit of a debate originally, after Fleur had asked Bill - an older non-student - to be her partner for the ball. It had been finally settled with pointing out that Harry did not technically belong either.
After all, Bill would be in attendance regardless - along with Healer Graves and a host of goblins - and it meant very little realistically speaking whether a champion escorted a student or not. Given how Harry himself was escorting a professor to the Ball.
And everyone was still too uncomfortable with the whole mess revolving around Harry's inclusion into the tournament's champion roster to so much as look at him funny, let alone tell him he couldn't do something he wanted to.
Particularly if that thing happened to at least seem reasonable.
So Fleur got to take Bill officially, and the two of them couldn't seem to step ogling each other and whispering together.
Which was kind of nice, especially since they somehow had so far, managed to avoid being nauseating.
Probably the lack of public displays of affection.
Given that it was a sort-of-but-not-actually first date, Bill appeared to be playing the role of Perfect Gentleman for the evening.
Which was pretty par for the course, really.
Turning away from Bill and Fleur to the next in line, Harry eyed the rather imposing figure Viktor made in his bold red formal uniform.
Particularly in comparison to the petite figure of his Yule Ball date, a tiny girl that Harry recalled seeing seated at the upper end of the Ravenclaw table with the seventh years.
It seemed a little amusing to Harry how the top of her head only managed to draw even with the tops of Viktor's strong shoulders.
Though really when push came to shove he knew it was he himself and McGonagal that were the stand out couple, if only because they were so utterly dissimilar.
The boy king offered her his arm when she had finished relaying her last minute reminders to the group at large and offered her a small slightly self-deprecating smile. "Ready?"
"As we'll even be, I suppose." She replied, slotting her arm around his offered one to rest her hand on his forearm. "Remember, the opening waltz will last a total of three minutes before the floor will be open for all guests to dance as the whim strikes."
"I remember." He promised and shifted to face forward even as he regarded her out of the corner of one eye.
He had the brief thought that it almost seemed like the professor was more nervous about the Ball than he was.
Although, he imagined there was little time during the year for a teacher and administrator who juggled so many responsibilities to attend things like balls and social parties. There was also the pressure of the whole thing running smoothly since any major cockups would reflect poorly on the school.
But you could say what you want about Professor Minerva McGonagal - at great danger to your own pride - but she was damn proud of her school.
Even if she did spend so much time rolling her eyes at her students and fellow staff that it still surprised Harry that her face hadn't stuck like that at some point.
Then again, he imagined she would just raise an eyebrow at her reflection and it would regret it's foolishness and get back to behaving like it should.
Not that he would ever share that particular thought.
He was a King now, not a god.
Though knowing his luck he'd still end up with detention somehow.
In front of their small line the large doors of the Great Hall swung back open to allow them entrance and a path formed through the students in front of it, leading all the way to the large space set aside for dancers.
In front of them Cedric and Cho started their proud entrance. Then after a moment's pause Fleur and Bill made their way into the hall. Then Viktor and his date.
Finally it was Harry's turn and he straightened out his back, pushing his shoulders back and lifting his chin the way he had been taught to before escorting the professor into the hall.
And not three feet into the Hall and he halfway wanted to turn around and go back the other way.
It felt a little surreal, the amount of people that were dipping into small bows or curtseys as he moved past. Left and right, students both younger and older than him were offering up their own small signs of respect, and if he hadn't been experiencing it here and there since he had become a king, he reckoned he would have probably been pretty unnerved by it all.
Beside him the professor didn't seem bothered by it, or barely seemed to notice really.
In short order each pair of champion partners made their way onto the dance floor and took up their preassigned place in a rough box shape. There was a bare moment of hesitation before Dumbledore addressed the gathered celebrants and welcomed them to the ball.
He half listened to the speech, at least just enough to pick out his cue to take the first step then the next until they're dancing.
Weaving around in gently swirling circles while keeping in mind where he and the professor are and where the other champions are so he doesn't accidentally lead their spiral into them.
He's almost absolutely positive that McGonagall is going to be grading his performance like his last transfiguration assignment.
At one point however his attention splits, having spotted Malfoy on the edge of the crowd looking like he was chewing on an earwax flavoured Bertie Botts bean and had toffee stuck to the top of his mouth.
Somewhere between frustrated and disgusted.
He hadn't given much thought to the white haired prat in months now, too busy focused on building, learning and political talks with other world leaders. It was almost jarring in a sense, to be confronted by the thought of a person that he had previously given so much consideration to.
His attention is jerked back by the sudden tensing of Professor McGonagall and the very slight but sudden intake of breath.
It took his mind less than a second to process that they're on a collision course with Cedric and Harry makes an abrupt counter spin back in the opposite direction, magic unconsciously surging.
It takes an embarrassing long moment for him to realise his feet aren't actually on the floor, since it still feels like they're making contact with a solid surface.
But it wasn't until he had a moment to relax again that he noticed that the faces that had been staring at him were now a couple of feet below him.
He and Minnie are dancing in the air and he's honestly not entirely sure how that happened.
And from the look on her face, neither did his old head of house.
"I don't particularly recall this dance calling for both of us to leave the ground." She whispered sharply.
"Would you believe it's a modern variation?" He whispered right back, offering her his best innocent look.
Which according to Sirius was actually pretty good.
At least compared to his father.
"Back on the ground, Mr. Potter."
"Just as soon as I figure out how we're up here to begin with." He assured her before he turned his focus inward to his magic.
His magic which was rather busy frothing about like a mad cat in a sack of wet werewolves.
It took him a moment to realise that it had surged in response to his split second of shock, an instinctive need to move away from the incoming danger, small though it would have been.
Which tells him the 'Why?'.
The 'How?' he knew will be a fair bit more difficult to puzzle through. Not least because of the lack of conscious thought guiding his magic into action.
His mind touched on the anti-gravity charm he had learned recently, danced over the laws of physics that govern movement and pondered the levitation charm he had first learned when he was eleven. He also contemplated the sensation of a solid floor he knew was not actually there, having snuck a peek down to his feet to be sure.
Harry took the time to quietly whisper his thoughts to McGonagall, letting her be his sounding board like Sirius so often is when he's getting creative with his magic.
He barely registered her growing look of surprise with the rapid pace of his thoughts.
But finally, when he thought he had an intentional version of the not quite levitation they were currently engaged in, Harry raised an eyebrow in lieu of asking if the professor was prepared for whatever came next then worked to guide his magic intentionally into lowering them back onto the dancefloor.
Their feet touch down and they manage to avoid knocking into any of the other dancers that had made their way into the space while they had been dancing about in the air.
There was a brief shared look before they came to the unspoken agreement that it might be time to end their dance and find a quiet spot to take a break.
The crowd parted for them without a word, offering a mixture of wide-eyed looks and respectful bows and curtseys that seemed a touch lower than they had been just a handful of minutes ago. It made it quite easy to slip through to where Dumbledore was standing to one side of the hall, looking for all the world like he had been waiting for them.
"What a spectacular opening dance." He commented merrily as they came to a spot beside him.
"Oh yes, it was rather magical." McGonagall responded, glancing at Harry with one eyebrow raised.
Sighing softly at the look Harry opted to instead move past it and direct his attention to the aged Headmaster. "Actually, before we get into that, I was wondering if you could tell me something?"
Interest settled across the man's wizened features as he regarded Harry curiously. "I can but try." He replied calmly. "What did you wish to know?"
"You've known Alastor Moody for a while, right?" Harry asked, cocking his head to one side.
"A number of years, yes, I do like to think of him as a dear friend." Albus replied readily.
The boy king nodded slowly, adding that little titbit to the knowledge he already had. "Do you know why he would employ a full body disguise and not to hide his scars?"
If Harry had thought he had their attention before, it was nothing compared to the weight of focus that was settled on him now.
"Disguise?" McGonagall repeated, voice terse.
He nodded, gesturing vaguely to the very impressive crown he was wearing. "My formal crown has several protections or aides enchanted into it that are meant to at least alert me to the potential of danger." He told them quietly, lowering his voice to make sure no one outside of their triad would overhear them. "One of them is the detection of magical disguises and physical alterations, which ranges from basic glamours to polyjuice."
They were both quiet for a moment, contemplating that before they exchanged a look.
Dumbledore turned sombre blue eyes back to the teen. "If I may ask, how does…?"
"It directs my magic in a constant pulse out from me that sweeps over a certain area around me that looks for certain magical signatures. The second layer to the enchantment augments my perception to make me aware of their presence. Or at least help me see those signatures when present. It was meant to help avoid assissination attempts." He explained.
Harry paused for a moment to let them think that over, and, sure enough he saw understanding settle shortly after.
"Our unplanned dance in the air ended up giving me a birds-eye view of the hall. So I know a few of the students are using glamours on their faces, probably to hide blemishes. Mr. Moody has something affecting his whole body and given my experiences over my time as a Hogwarts student…" He trailed off, letting them follow the thought along to its logical conclusion.
Though he hadn't been in mortal danger each of his three years at Hogwarts, there had been something off about each year's Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. In his first year, Quirinus Quirrell had been possessed rather horrifically by a shockingly still alive but disembodied Voldemort. He had obviously hidden that fact and set about his nefarious purpose in secret until it had all come out in the end as the school year had been drawing to a close.
In his second year the greatly touted Gilderoy Lockhart had taken up the position to very mixed reception. Despite not meaning any actual harm while he was acting in his role of professor for the year he still had managed to land titsup more often than was reasonable. But like Quirrell his secrets had come out toward the end of the school year and it had proved him more than simply unsavory.
And in third, as much as he hated to dwell on it, because it was arguably the best of his years despite the dementors and the confusion and all the secrets that everyone else seemed to know about him. Harry had to acknowledge that Remus had been keeping secrets of his own that had come out to nearly disastrous consequences.
But that was the common vein that linked all three men.
They had been carrying around very dangerous secrets, the kind that could drag a person in and chew them to bits. Literally in one instance.
With that in mind it begged the question, just what dangerous secret was Alastor Moody hiding?
From what Ron had been telling him, Harry knew that the man's career as an auror had been intense and storied at best. Hence his many scars and lost body parts.
He knew the man was at least partially responsible for a great deal of the residence of Azkaban finding their way there, Sirius thankfully not included. Moody was, Harry thought, probably what they had in mind when they coined the term 'Battle Hardened'.
So the cornucopia of old injuries and slightly twitchy behaviour made sense in a way it wouldn't for a lot of people.
But a full body disguise that seemingly hid nothing...that didn't make sense.
"How has Moody seemed to you?" Harry asked after a long quiet moment, glowing eyes focused on the Headmasters own shadowed ones.
The older man kept quiet a moment longer, considering. "A little more withdrawn, a little closer to flask." He admitted finally, one hand reaching up to stroke along the length of his beard. "The same complaints about complacency and reminders for diligence and vigilance. But quieter, more reserved."
"But not enough to strike you as odd?" Harry asked, picking up on the older man's hesitance.
"Not on its own, no. Alastor has not been taking his retirement from the force well." Albus said quietly, giving both Harry and McGonagall a look to silently tell them that the information was to go no further. "It's why, despite the trend of Defense teachers I invited him to teach this year personally, rather than go through the normal auditions. He had taken an apprentice auror for a time and it had seemed to help him, but with the training complete…"
Harry hummed quietly. "You wanted to give him something familiar to focus on, rather than the retirement." He surmised.
"Just so."
McGonagall frowned at one of the closer tables, whose occupants were engaged in a particularly boisterous conversation of their own. "You are implying that the man who has been teaching our students and dining at our table is not in fact Alastor Moody."
"Maybe. Right now I just think there are some things that don't make sense and so far my instincts haven't really been wrong when it comes to things like this." The boy king replied, his own eyes moving back in the direction that he recalled the curious man having been sitting. "I do know that if I was still a student, I would have been poking at the bits that don't make sense until I knew why."
Releasing a long, world-weary sigh the Headmaster straightened his shoulders and gave a nod of his head. "I will look into it, discreetly."
"Perhaps Severus, he might have noticed something?" Minerva suggested, expression worried.
"Or the potion store might." Harry pointed out as the thought occurred to him. "If it is polyjuice then the ingredients have to be coming from somewhere, I doubt he will have brought a year's worth of polyjuice ingredients along with him. Most of them need to be stored in specific conditions or be used as freshly as possible for best effect."
Dumbledore seemed to consider that for a moment before nodding. "I will ask when I next have a chance." He turned slightly to look across at the tables before humming. "For now however, it seems as though dinner is served."
The animagus professor hummed, head tilting up ever so slightly as she seemed to scent the air. "Oh, it smells wonderful. Mr. Potter, please remember that after the meal all of the champions are required back here for photos and a short interview."
Harry offered a slightly pained smile in return. "I remember." He replied easily before offering his arm to escort her to the champions table where they had been stationed for the evening when not otherwise occupied.
They were joined by the other champions of course, but also Ron and Hermione who had decided to attend together. Although Harry quickly discovered that they had managed one dance together before they had apparently started bickering and had opted to go their own way for most of the evening.
Ron with Padma Patil, who had apparently ended up striking up a conversation with him about different fields of study that could have beneficial impacts for athletes like quidditch players and thus, improve their in game abilities. Which in turn seemed to be the magic means that facilitated Ron dancing without even remembering that he was.
Hermione had found her own night saved by Ron's own brother, in the quick acting gallantry of one Fred Weasley. Fred had surrendered his own date into the care of his twin and had maneuvered Hermione away from Ron so they would stop fighting.
He had spent the last little while whizzing Hermione around the dancefloor well away from Ron while besieging her with jokes and slightly off-colour humour until she'd had no choice but to smile again.
Or at least that was what Ruknukle reported via their respective pieces of interconnected magical accessories.
He also informed Harry that after hearing the boy king's conversation with Dumbledore, that he had relayed Harry's suspicions to the other guards and that they were also on the lookout for any suspicious behaviour.
He had taken a moment to remind his goblin protector about what he'd been told regarding the magic eye Moody wore. And then been politely - for a grouchy veteran warrior goblin - the goblin equivalent to 'not teach your grandmother how to suck eggs', which basically boiled down to not telling him how to do his job.
Which was fair, Harry thought, since the crotchety goblin had been alive and swinging well before those very handy prosthetics were first invented.
It all meant though that by the time the plates had been cleared away and the photos and interviews were done with, that Harry was already ready for the night to be over.
Admittedly he had very little experience with parties of any sort of variety, having always been locked in his room if there was one going on at the Dursleys. Or otherwise made into waitstaff.
The only other example was the chaotic mess the Gryffindor common room became after a quidditch win, wherein they'd break out the upper years carefully hoarded supply of butterbeer and firewhiskey. Someone would also make a raid down to the kitchens - with admittedly mixed results - for snacks that would be similarly shared around while they all celebrated.
A ball, Harry was finding, had none of the closely mirrored hype that would bounce from person to person and back again, bringing with it a new wave of blood pumping adrenaline.
Instead, it was a lot of social chatter and dancing. Two things Harry thought were incredibly exhausting on their own, particularly when they went on for extended periods of time. Never mind when they went on for hours.
Which, according to his pocket watch, three hours had apparently already passed since they had stepped into the Great Hall.
Three hours of eating, polite conversation, very careful dancing and neatly sidestepping Malfoy who seemed to be intent on jumping into some kind of conversation with Harry that the boy king was exactly zero percent interested in.
Especially after he'd had to step in here and there to settle more disagreements than he really cared to think about.
Which meant that by the time the Weird Sisters climbed up on stage with their gear cranked to eleven, Harry was very much missing the quiet evenings he'd spend flicking through a book or - as was becoming more of a regular occurrence - teaching Sirius and Remus this or that spell hat he'd picked up and wanted to share with them.
It got to the point that he finally gave his excuses and had not-quite-stumbled out of the hall to collect his goblins to disapparate from the pounding noise, steering the way back to the comparative tomb-like silence of Grimmauld Place.
All with very little thought about the greedy eyes he was leaving behind.
26th December 1994 - The Fountain, Skyfall, Volstar
All said and done, it had taken Harry approximately fifteen minutes that morning to decide he was kind of sick of London and that he wanted to spend the remainder of his time from that morning until the next task he had to complete it back in Skyfall.
And all it had taken was seeing a picture of him and McGonagall dancing in the air in the paper for him to decide that he was sick of the scrutiny.
So the whole group had packed up, left instructions with Kreacher to take care of the place and when he should expect them to return and had been pulled through space back to the much warmer sun of Volstar.
Graves had made his goodbyes and had set off to check in with the colleagues that had made the move over the last couple of weeks, ostensibly to make sure they were settling in well enough.
Bill had wandered off to his flat to unpack and - after, Harry suspected, sending a letter to Fleur - relax.
The goblins had, upon seeing him deposited safely back on sovereign territory, bowed out to head back to their Hollow to rest and reconnect with their kin.
The elves had done much the same, once they had been assured that Harry had no need for their services just yet.
Which meant Harry was left to sink down onto the lip of the fountain, exchanging the odd wave with citizens on their own way to work.
It was a little startling to find out, upon relaxing there beneath the warm winter sun, just how tense he had been. And more, just how tense he had to have been throughout the entire trip, given the fact that he had thought prior to unwinding, that he had been pretty relaxed already.
A little amazing since he had last been in Skyfall not even a full week ago for dinner and to learn how to dance so Professor McGonagall wouldn't hex his eyebrows off for embarrassing her.
"Harry?"
Looking up, the teen spotted Remus standing off to one side, apparently having decided that giving Harry a good four to five feet of distance while he was lost in thought was the respectable thing to do.
"Remus, morning."
"Good morning, we weren't expecting you back for a couple more days?" The older man said, though it's phrased more like a question.
"Got homesick." Harry replied, for lack of a better explanation. "How have things been?"
Drawing closer so he could settle beside him on the lip of the fountain, Remus tipped his head back and closed his eyes. Drinking in the sun's warmth.
He'd managed a decent tan since coming to Volstar and had managed to put on a little weight. Something that pleased Harry quite a bit. Sirius too had soaked up the steady meals and regular exercise, recovering even more from his Azkaban ordeal.
He hadn't managed to tan though, as it turned out Black blood did not encourage an appreciation of the sun. So while Harry and Remus had both tanned golden in the sun, Sirius just turned worrying shades of pink and red when he tried.
He may or may not be a little sensitive about it.
"They're good, construction is about halfway on the second elf tower and there's a team out clearing the site for the Great Library. So far it looks like the construction will go through without an issue." Remus relayed, the corners of his lips taking an upward tick.
"Oh good, we'll be able to get to work on making copies of the Black library to put in it." Harry chirped, already feeling better.
Remus hummed in agreement. "There's also your own library. You've built up quite a few books already." He added.
"That's true, I guess. Though it would probably be a lot easier to just buy new copies than unravel the anti-copy protection on all the newer books." He said, tilting his own head back just a little while he scrutinised the exterior facade of the Seeker's Rest. "Oh, are we still on for the animagus stuff?"
"Provided you remembered to pick up the things you need for the potion."
"I did, there wasn't too much that we were missing. Just the stupid leaf." The teen huffed, reaching into his magically expanded pocket for the thing, which has been expertly rolled and sealed in a crystal case to protect it from foreign contaminants.
"Then certainly. You've been doing your daily meditation?" Remus asked, turning his face away from the sun to study Harry instead. "From what I remember the others saying, the meditation did help ground them in the before and after. James called it making grounding points that helped process the things that changed after."
"Sirius mentioned that too, he said that what changes depends both on the person and the clarity of the bond?" Harry said, his voice taking on a questioning uptilt.
Remus offered him a small wry smile and a shrug. "I'll not be much help there I'm afraid. From what I gather it's quite different from my own situation, so I have no suggestions and recommendations aside from what Sirius and James said when they went through it."
"Yes, well, I'm not officially due anywhere until late February, so I've got time for it now." Harry reminded him, waving away the half-apology. "And supposedly this time of the year is ripe for thunderstorms here. At least according to the goblins who were in charge of keeping an eye on the island."
"So all should be well. You'll be an animagus by the time you have to go back for your next task." Remus told him, lightly bopping him on the arm. "You and Padfoot can spend a while running up and down the beach. It will do you both some good I think."
"A bit of time to play." Harry agreed, finding himself rather eager at the idea.