CHAPTER 32: WALTZING INTO FIFTEEN
Harry's initial elation from acquiring the Thunderbolt V swiftly faded as his godfather, Sirius, inundated him with the exhaustive checklist for the day. The official commencement of the party was slated for noon, with the dress code ambiguously marked 'semi-formal.' The wizarding world's interpretation of fashion often strayed into uncharted territory, leaving Harry to speculate about the ensembles that might make an appearance.
Having crashed into bed after enduring his grueling trial, Harry had missed the arduous late-night efforts of Sirius and Andromeda, who toiled tirelessly. Kreacher, under strict instructions, had dispatched invitations to the Black Manor, each containing the exclusive Floo address and the password, functional solely for the day's affair.
Initially assuming Sirius would extend invitations to a select few—Andromeda's kin, Fleur, perhaps the Weasleys and Hermione, and the Greengrasses—Harry found himself taken aback when handed a roster for his approval.
"Miss Fleur Delacour. Miss Hermione Granger. Mr. Arthur Weasley and his entire family. Madam Amelia Bones and her niece, Susan Bones. Mr. Joshua Greengrass and family. Miss Penelope Clearwater. Mr. Albus Dumbledore. Madam Minerva McGonagall. Mr. Rubeus Hagrid. Miss Angelina Johnson. Miss Katie Bell. Miss Alicia Spinett. Mister Oliver Wood. Miss Emmeline Vance. Mrs. Narcissa Malfoy nee Black and her son, Draco Malfoy. Mrs. Andromeda Tonks nee Black and family. Madam Augusta Longbottom and her grandson, Neville Longbottom. Lord Burke and family. Madam Griselda Marchbanks. Mr. Kingsley Shacklebolt. Mr. Rufus Scrimgeour. Mr. Dirk Cresswell. Mr. Barnabas Cuffe. Mr. Xenophilius Lovegood. Mr. Cornelius Fudge. And many more..."
Fortuitously, Sirius and Joshua had already initiated Harry into the labyrinthine intricacies of addressing witches and wizards in high society, priming him for this pivotal event. This marked Harry's premiere engagement as Lord Potter, not to mention his ties to House Black, House Greengrass, and his recent ennoblement.
Several guests from the roster had rallied in his favor during the trial, and Harry recognized the importance of ensuring their inclusion. Sirius was resolute about this soirée's significance, emphasizing that Harry's impassioned debut at the Wizengamot needed reinforcement. The day's festivities were designed to foster personal connections across diverse echelons of the Wizarding community, connections that would reverberate through their networks. Sirius underscored the gravity of such gatherings; their impact stretched far beyond Harry's immediate comprehension. The alliances and acquaintances forged here would fortify him for the future.
Yet, Fudge's inclusion remained a puzzling note in this symphony of influential figures.
"Sirius, why Fudge?" Harry inquired, his brow furrowed in confusion as he glanced over the list.
Sirius met his gaze, a wry smile playing on his lips. "Politics, my boy. Fudge might be a controversial figure, but his presence lends an air of political diversity to the assembly. It's about showcasing unity, even in the face of differing opinions. Plus, you never know when a former Minister might come in handy."
As the clock ticked closer to the appointed hour, the stage was set for the whirlwind of events to unfold. The grandeur of the occasion and the eclectic guest list promised an evening that would leave a lasting imprint on Harry's journey into the intricate tapestry of wizarding politics and society.
The inaugural guests, heralding the commencement of Harry's grand affair, were none other than Neville Longbottom and his formidable grandmother, Augusta Longbottom, who maintained her imposing presence with the persistent embellishment of a vulture hat. Despite Neville's customary reticence, a visible growth spurt had added inches to his frame, and a subtle transformation had refined his once-rounded visage. A reciprocal smile and a genial wave greeted Harry's acknowledgment of their arrival. The ritual of exchanging pleasantries commenced, culminating in a traditional bow and a gallant kiss upon Augusta's knuckles—an act met with a discerning eye and silent approval.
"Lord Harry Potter," Augusta Longbottom intoned imperiously. "I must admit, you differ from what I heard of you."
Harry swallowed apprehensively. "In a good way, I hope."
"I must confess, Mister Potter, that I do not particularly approve of Albus Dumbledore. It rather surprised me to see you in coalition with the Greengrass family during the trial. Between your godfather being Lord Black, and now your status as a vessel for Peverell, I wonder if you'll be like your father, James, or your grandfather Fleamont."
In response, Harry offered a small smile. "If you'll forgive my impertinence, ma'am, I didn't get to know either of them. So, I'll try to be my own person."
A scrutinizing gaze from the venerable Augusta Longbottom preceded a nod of acknowledgment. "My grandson tells me you play Seeker in your House Quidditch team. And that you are remarkably good at it."
"The youngest seeker in a century," Neville chimed in.
Grinning at Neville, Harry turned back to Augusta. "If I get the opportunity, I'll try my luck at going professional."
"Huh? Really?" Neville blurted out, only to be silenced by a stern look from his grandmother.
Augusta Longbottom narrowed her eyes at Harry. "Your father was friends with my son, Frank. He was a Keeper, while your father, a Chaser. Could have gone international if not for..." She trailed off, her expression revealing unspoken regrets. "Either way, it's good to see you following in your father's footsteps." Her lips twisted into a frown. "Unlike some."
A troubled expression crossed Neville's face, his fists clenching in response. Harry couldn't help but wonder about the underlying significance.
"Neville!" Augusta barked, breaking the moment. "The present?"
"Oh, uh—Happy Birthday, Harry!" Neville squeaked, presenting a large glass jar from an extensible pouch. Pressing a specific section of the jar, the glass turned transparent, unveiling a tiny, three-headed snake with red scales and a green underbelly, hissing furiously and scanning its surroundings.
Harry blinked, taken aback. "That's a runespoor, Harry," Neville explained. "Gran took me to Burkina Faso for the summer. We found several runespoor eggs and brought them with us to our ophidiarium. When Gran told me you invited us, I suggested we give one hatchling to you because you're a—"
"Parselmouth?"
Neville swallowed, nodding in affirmation.
"I'll be candid, Mr. Potter," declared Augusta Longbottom imperiously. "Regardless of its effects, Parselmouths have been associated with dark wizards. So, giving a snake as a birthday gift was not my desire. However, Neville is your roommate, so I reckon he knows you better than I do."
Harry glanced at the mesmerizing runespoor, pondering the layers of meaning in Neville's gift and Augusta's guarded words.
Harry offered an uneasy smile. "It's an unconventional gift. But I'm glad he did. I'm interested to see how a magical snake reacts to Parseltongue."
"Do you think they'll allow you to take it to Hogwarts?" Augusta inquired, her tone revealing her disapproval.
"I bloody well hope not!" Harry chuckled. "I'll ask Professor Dumbledore when he arrives. Speaking of…" He gestured toward the other guests who had recently arrived. "If you'll excuse me?"
Repeating the motion Neville had demonstrated earlier, Harry placed the jar in a corner with the other parcels and approached Amelia Bones, who had just entered through the Floo with her niece, Susan Bones. The red-haired girl, reminiscent of her aunt, blushed as her eyes met Harry's. Harry hoped he wasn't in for another situation akin to dealing with Ginny Weasley. He swiftly made his way over to welcome them.
"Ah, Harry, there you are," exclaimed Sirius, drawing Harry into the group. Susan blushed heavily as she greeted him and handed him an exquisitely crafted wizard chess set.
"My niece says that she's often seen you playing chess at Hogwarts," Amelia remarked. "She all but forced me to get you this one. I really hope this is to your liking, Mr. Potter."
Harry offered a lopsided grin. While chess wasn't his obsession, Susan had at least observed him enough to make a thoughtful gift—more attention than he usually received from himself.
"Thank you, and please, call me Harry," he said, thanking her with his practiced smile. Susan squeaked again, muttering something under her breath.
"Harry," the usually stern Amelia softened her expression. "Susan tells me you rarely ever branch out from your friend circle. She's put a lot of thought into this gift, hoping this year will be different. Honestly, Sirius, prepare yourself. After yesterday's trial, I'd expect all kinds of betrothal offers coming for Harry from other families."
Harry blushed deeply, the prospect catching him off guard.
"Why, Amelia," Sirius teased, a mischievous glint in his eyes, "are you offering Susan as a potential bride?"
Susan blushed furiously, resembling a ripe tomato.
"I would offer her..." Amelia began, her tone conspiratorial.
"AUNTIE!" Susan shrieked, her embarrassment palpable.
Both adults burst into laughter.
"Sorry, Sirius," Amelia chuckled, "you know how kids are these days! They'd rather choose whom to marry themselves, uncaring of us poor adults."
Sirius grinned and playfully ruffled Harry's hair, a habit he had developed over the summer. "Same here. But James did a good job with Lily, and Harry is the best of both. I'm afraid my godson might have already had his sights on a special someone…"
Sirius waggled his eyebrows, prompting an eye roll from Harry. He couldn't help but notice the way Susan's face initially fell at the revelation, only for a swift resurgence of determination. Harry wondered if Sirius had intentionally dropped that hint to prevent her from harboring any false hopes.
"Speaking of," continued Amelia, "I have a special guest on my side who wished to attend today's party. I hope that won't be a slight?"
"Nonsense," Sirius waved off the concern. "Your guest is my guest. Speaking of…"
Harry seized the opportunity as his cue. With a small, reassuring smile at Susan, he excused himself and embarked on a round of greetings. While he recognized some guests well, most were strangers to him. Nevertheless, he was pleased to note that almost everyone on the extensive guest list had shown up, even though certain familiar faces exchanged stink eyes. Draco, standing next to his mother Narcissa, drew Harry's attention. Narcissa, an exceptionally attractive woman, had her beauty marred by a perpetual half-sneer as she engaged in conversation with Andi. Draco, on the other hand, shot Harry dirty looks from the sidelines. The tension in the room was palpable, and Harry couldn't help but wonder about the dynamics at play.
As he navigated through the diverse assembly, he caught sight of Fudge engaged in animated conversation with Professor Dumbledore. The inclusion of the former Minister in the gathering continued to baffle him, and he made a mental note to inquire about it later. However, the pressing need to be a gracious host took precedence.
"Minister Fudge, Professor Dumbledore, welcome!" Harry greeted them, offering a respectful nod to each.
Fudge beamed, adjusting his bowler hat. "Ah, Lord Potter, splendid party you've got here. Splendid indeed!"
Dumbledore, his long white beard flowing gracefully, twinkled his blue eyes at Harry. "A magnificent gathering, my boy. Your godfather has truly outdone himself."
Harry thanked them, masking his curiosity about Fudge's unexpected attendance. The ensuing conversations and interactions, he realized, were the threads weaving the tapestry of alliances that Sirius had emphasized earlier. The dynamics of the room were a complex dance, and Harry
Harry smiled warmly at Joshua's playful banter. "Well, I'm honored that you all made it, even with the wardrobe deliberations. And thank you for the birthday wishes, Joshua."
Daphne rolled her eyes, feigning annoyance. "Honestly, Father, you're embarrassing me."
Ignoring Daphne's protests, Joshua continued, "I must say, this place is quite impressive. Haven't been here since… well, let's just say it's been a while."
"Yes, the house has a long history," Harry replied, glancing around at the ancient tapestries and dark wooden furniture that adorned Grimmauld Place. "But Sirius has been working hard to make it more, let's say, hospitable."
Sirius, who had been engaged in conversation with Dumbledore and McGonagall, joined the group with a mischievous grin. "Joshua, my old friend! Glad you could make it. And Daphne, don't listen to your father. You look stunning, as always."
Daphne's cheeks tinted pink, and she mumbled a quiet "thank you."
"Now, Harry," Sirius continued, clapping a hand on Harry's shoulder, "I want you to meet some important guests. This is Albus Dumbledore, our esteemed Headmaster, and Minerva McGonagall, Head of Gryffindor House."
Harry greeted Dumbledore and McGonagall with a respectful nod. "Pleasure to meet you both. And thank you for being here."
Dumbledore twinkled at him. "The pleasure is ours, Harry. Your godfather has spoken highly of you."
"Indeed," McGonagall added. "A promising young wizard, if I may say so."
As the conversation flowed, Harry couldn't help but notice the diverse dynamics at play. Daphne and Astoria engaged in small talk with Tonks, Draco found himself cornered by an enthusiastic group discussing Quidditch, and Joshua continued to exchange friendly banter with Sirius.
The atmosphere seemed to ease as the party progressed, and Harry felt a sense of accomplishment in seeing his guests interact despite their varying backgrounds and histories. The whirlwind of introductions and exchanges continued, each moment adding another layer to the intricate tapestry of relationships woven throughout the evening. As the clock ticked on, Harry couldn't help but marvel at the connections forming within the walls of Grimmauld Place, connections that held the promise of shaping his future in ways he was only beginning to grasp.
Harry raised an eyebrow. "That bad?"
"Oh, stop it!" Daphne blushed slightly. "You realize this may be the first time a Slytherin is attending a birthday party hosted by a Gryffindor? And not just any Gryffindor?"
"Really?" Harry drawled. "Well, you're a little late if you want to be the first to break tradition. Draco arrived earlier than you," he pointed to the Malfoy duo in the corner, engaged in conversation with a guest Harry hadn't met yet.
"So many girls around and you're still talking about Draco?" Daphne teased. "Maybe I was right about the forbidden romance!"
"Cease your shameless flirting, sister," came the slightly annoyed voice of Astoria Greengrass, who had been chatting with Susan. Unlike Daphne, Astoria had jet black hair but inherited her father's blue eyes. She walked up to Harry, giving him a small pout. Then, surprising everyone, she raised her hand and offered it to him.
Harry took her hand and kissed her knuckles, following tradition. A few catcalls echoed from behind, and Harry wondered if one of them was Sirius. "Miss Astoria Greengrass, welcome to Grimmauld Place."
"Hmm!" she scoffed, looking at him confidently, though a spark of something gleamed in her eyes. "So you are the one who thinks he's good enough for Daphne."
Harry exchanged a glance with an amused Joshua and Daphne, curious about what had prompted this sudden turn of events. Deciding to treat it as another social test, he gave Astoria his full attention. "Isn't that the sort of question a girl's dad typically asks, not her little sister?"
"Usually, but Father already vouches for you, and someone had to do the asking," she replied, her efforts to maintain a stern façade waning. Harry glanced at Daphne, who was on the verge of snorting.
"Honestly," Harry said, playing along, "your father put me in this position. I just went with the flow."
Astoria's composure cracked, and she burst into laughter, surprising everyone around. "You're not what I expected, Lord Potter. Daphne, you've got an interesting one here."
Daphne grinned, clearly enjoying her sister's unexpected approval. "Told you, Astoria. Harry's full of surprises."
As the banter continued, Harry found himself immersed in the lively atmosphere of the party. The unexpected twists and turns only added to the charm of the evening, making it a birthday celebration he would remember for a long time. And amidst the laughter, conversations, and occasional teasing, the tapestry of relationships continued to evolve, weaving a complex yet fascinating pattern that would shape the future in ways Harry could only begin to fathom.
Astoria's frown deepened, and she crossed her arms. "That does not satisfy me enough to give you my approval, Harry." "Astoria—!" Daphne sighed, shooting her sister an apologetic glance. "Hush, sister!" Astoria continued, maintaining her stern façade. "You're lucky Father is vouching for you. I'd give you the 'hurt-her-and-die' speech, but you're Harry freakin' Potter. So, I'll just go ahead with the 'Hurt-her-and-I'll-be-a-huge-pain-in-your-arse' speech." "Fair enough!" Harry replied, suppressing a chuckle. "Here's a head-start for you then. I'll be making your sister's life hell on the Quidditch pitch." Daphne arched her brows, clearly intrigued. Harry grinned from ear to ear. "Sirius gifted me a Thunderbolt V." "What happened to your Firebolt?" Daphne asked, genuinely curious. "It's fine," Harry waved off. "It's my birthday gift." Daphne blinked, repeatedly opening and closing her mouth. Then, in a perfect imitation of a certain snooty pureblood, she lifted her nose slightly and gave him a most condescending sneer. "Good for you, Potter. You'll need it. Slytherin will send your chasers packing this year." Harry snorted. "You wish." "Laugh all you want, Potter. You should be thankful that I got you this instead." She handed him a small vial containing a bright blue liquid. "Err... thanks," he accepted her gift. "But what's this?" "Your birthday present. What else?" "And what is this?" Daphne's eyes sparkled. "A memory. Puddlemere versus Kenmare Kestrels. Quarterfinals of '79." Harry's eyes widened as he realized what she was talking about. "James Potter's performance in a professional league match. I got it from Geoffrey McCoy. He used to be the Puddlemere Coach then."
Astoria leaned in, her curiosity overcoming her skepticism. "Geoffrey McCoy? The former Puddlemere Coach? That must be quite a memory." Daphne nodded, her tone carrying a hint of pride. "Absolutely. James Potter was outstanding in that match. It's a piece of Quidditch history, and I thought you might appreciate it." Harry examined the vial with newfound appreciation. "I do. Thanks, Daphne. This is really thoughtful." Astoria raised an eyebrow, a trace of a smile playing on her lips. "Well, Potter, it seems you're not entirely hopeless." Harry chuckled, feeling a sense of accomplishment in winning over Astoria, even if just a bit. "I aim to impress."
Harry's jaw fell open, staring at the vial in his hands. A memory of his father as a professional Quidditch player? He had often visited the trophy room and spent hours looking at James Potter's trophies. Being chosen as Seeker before he even understood the nuances of Quidditch, he found himself remarkably good at it. But to follow in his father's footsteps had only become a fully articulated goal this year. That Daphne Greengrass had seen through it...
For the second time since the start of the day, Harry Potter found himself at a loss for words.
"He's staring at you as though you've just stumbled upon the secret of eternal life, sister," Astoria bantered with a twinkle in her eye.
"I—" Harry attempted to respond, but words proved elusive. No combination of phrases seemed adequate to capture the surge of emotions coursing through him.
And then, a sudden interruption unfolded.
"GREENGRASS?" bellowed a voice that Harry recognized only too well, emanating from the rear. "What the bloody hell are you doing here? Harry, who invited these Slytherins?"
Spinning around, Harry found himself face to face with an incensed Ron Weasley, his gaze piercing through Daphne and her family. Hermione, standing beside Ron, offered an unimpressed stare, while the rest of the Weasley clan observed with a mix of curiosity and judgment.
Harry couldn't help but curse his luck. The evening had been progressing smoothly, and now, the unexpected intrusion threatened to unravel the delicate balance they had established.
Astoria raised an eyebrow at Ron's outburst. "Well, aren't you a charming addition to the party?"
Ron scowled, his attention fixed on Daphne. "Charming Slytherin? Since when did that become a thing?"
Daphne, undeterred, flashed a composed smile. "Oh, Ron Weasley, always the life of the party. And to answer your question, charm is a Slytherin thing. You wouldn't understand."
Hermione sighed, seemingly accustomed to Ron's brashness. "Can we not ruin Harry's birthday party with house rivalries, please?"
The tension in the room hung thick as the two groups assessed each other, waiting to see who would make the next move.
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