The Egg

"Father, what can you tell me about our family?"

Percival looked upon his only son, Jack, and frowned thoughtfully.

"Very little," he answered honestly. "I suppose I've not thought much of the family history."

"Oh," Jack said disappointedly.

"Is there any particular reason you are asking?"

Jack shook his head.

"No, I was just curious. The other kids wanted to know if I was a pureblood, that's all."

"Well, you are," Percival assured Jack. "Our family would not be so respected if we weren't. You know what some of the other families can be like."

Jack nodded.

"Are you against muggleborns or half-bloods?"

"No," Percival replied without hesitation. "We are all magical. It should not matter the parentage. A person should be judged only by their own character and actions. The blood that flows through their veins is unimportant."

"But, aren't we more powerful than them?"

"Some seem to think so," Percival sighed. "The trouble is, assumptions have been made but no one has set out to prove or disprove the theory. Well, not any efforts that have been made known. I suppose those with the power and ability to do so are the very same that would prefer to remain blissfully ignorant of any truth that counters their beliefs."

"That's just stupid."

"People are quite stupid, Jack," Percival chuckled. "You'll learn that as you get older. Some like to hold onto tradition and traditional thought simply for the sake of it. That was why I was named for my grandfather."

"You didn't name me after one of my ancestors?"

Percival shook his head.

"No. Sometimes, it is good to break tradition," he murmured.

Jack offered his father a smile and Harry felt himself pulled from the vision where he was deposited on his bed in Gryffindor Tower.

Shaking his head, he realised just how much the Peverell line had changed over the passing generations. So much so, that the Potters had forgotten where it was they had come from.

It was bound to happen.

If such a connection between the families had remained common knowledge, then it was something that would be commented on, and each new Potter would have found themselves compared to their ancestors.

The Peverells of old were a prominent family, yet one that had faded with time.

It saddened Harry to have witnessed it for himself, but the forgotten lineage of the Potter family served him being such. None would ever guess that he was the many times great grandson of Ignotus Peverell.

And none would certainly make the connection that he was indeed a direct descendant of Salazar Slytherin via his mother's line.

For the most part, muggles really did keep excellent familial records dating all the way back to when the French invaded in 1066, some even further.

Sporadically, Harry had been looking into the very notion since he'd had the visions of Mallory Gaunt and Carys Peverell. It had taken some time to confirm and had been done so with no small amount of difficulty, but Lily Evans had been born to the line of John and Carys Evans nee Peverell.

They had left Godric's Hollow and arrived in Surrey a few years later, already married. Harry had learned that their magical children had later married local muggles having been shunned by much of wizarding society for their blood status.

From there, it was difficult to track the generations that came and passed. Two of the three lines had simply come to an end sometime in the 1800's. The other had survived as muggles until Lily Evans had been born in 1960.

Not that any would be made privy to the information.

It wasn't that Harry was ashamed of where he had come from, but it was a part of his life that he did not wish to share.

It explained how he had been born with the ability to converse with snakes, though the same question came to him whenever he pondered his mother.

Had she known? Had Lily Evans been aware of her heritage and the ability she possessed?

Harry doubted he would ever know, but the question would not stop niggling at him.

"Harry, you in there?" the voice of Ron questioned.

"I am."

"Good. McGonagall wants us all gathered in the Common Room now."

Harry frowned and wondered why the Head of House would require their presence.

"I'll be there in a minute," he sighed.

Why did he have a bad feeling that something he would not be pleased by was about to happen?

Shaking his head of the thoughts of his ancestry, Harry made his way to the common room where the rest of his housemates were already gathered. He took a seat between Ron and Hermione, and behind Fred and George.

No one with any sense would ever sit with their back to the twins.

"Now that everyone is here, I have an announcement," Professor McGonagall addressed the room from where she stood in front of the fireplace. "As part of the tradition of the Triwizard Tournament, there will be a Yule Ball held on Christmas day. This is open to students who are in fourth year an above."

That wasn't such a bad thing, Harry decided. Knowing his usual luck, it could have been much worse news.

"The event will be opened by the champions sharing a dance with their chosen partners…"

Whatever else Professor McGonagall said, Harry didn't hear as he cursed himself and forgot any sentimentality of the news not being so bad.

Dance? Harry would have to dance in front of everyone, and with a partner.

His heart sunk into the pit of his stomach and he allowed his head to fall limply to his chest.

Harry didn't know how to dance, let alone how to ask someone on a date.

"Bloody hell," he groaned, scowling at the amused expressions of Ron, Hermione, and the twins. "You can all piss off."

"Oh, don't be like that Harrykins," one of the twins cooed. "You'll be fine. The girls will be queuing up to go with you."

"I doubt it," Harry muttered.

The redhead tutted.

"Stop being a wuss. Look, it's easy. OI, ANGELINA?" he called.

The Chaser looked towards him questioningly and he offered Harry a wink.

"Do you want to go to the ball with me?"

The girl blushed and nodded before she was all but dragged into a conversation with Katie and Alicia.

"See, I told you it was easy."

"For you," Harry sighed. "I'd rather have a crack at the dragon again, and I don't know why you're laughing, Ronald. You have to ask someone."

The younger Weasley paled at the thought and the others laughed at his plight.

"At least I don't have to make a prat of myself in front of everyone."

Harry conceded the point with a nod as he stood.

He wanted no part of any ball, any dance, nor asking anyone to be his date.

It was bad enough that he was yet to figure out the screeching of the egg he heard every time he opened it. The closest Harry had come was by implementing some of the translation charms Nicholas had taught him.

Still, they did not work as intended.

When used, the pitch of the screeching would either increase to a point that it was unbearable, or it would drone, similarly to a bumblebee.

Harry felt as though he was on the cusp of figuring it out, but the final missing piece was eluding him.

It was a language. Of that he had no doubt, but what language could not be transcribed by conventional means?

Harry didn't know, but he would get to the bottom of it.

For now, however, he had been given something else to occupy his mind. Something he could do without.

"I'm going for a walk," he announced morosely.

Taking his leave of the Common Room, he made his way up towards the seventh floor, though it was not the room he would be visiting.

No. He would seek solace with Hedwig.

He was under no illusion that his faithful owl would be able to offer much in the way of advice or comfort, but wished to spend some time with her nonetheless, whilst he pondered his latest conundrum.

Who would he even want to go to the ball with, let alone dance with, in front of everyone who would undoubtedly remain here for the holidays?

No one.

Harry didn't want to go to the ball, nor did he want to dance.

Did he have to?

He snorted to himself as he entered the owlery.

Knowing his luck, there would be a caveat to the rules of competing that would insist upon his presence. He couldn't be the only champion in history who wished to avoid the pomp of the Yule Ball.

"Bloody hell," he grumbled as he held out his arm.

Hedwig landed on it immediately and nuzzled her against his chest.

"If only you were a human," Harry chuckled.

"She would probably think you are a prat too," a voice sounded from behind him. "What are you doing moping up here?"

"Hello, Greengrass," Harry sighed. "Are you here by chance or have you come to ruin my day too?"

"Ruin your day?"

"You must have heard about the ball?"

Daphne's nostrils flared.

"Malfoy thought he could insist on escorting me."

"I bet that went well."

"About as well as it would go for you if you asked me," Daphne replied with a smirk.

"Believe me, Greengrass, I have no intention of asking you."

The girl appeared to be mildly offended by the declaration and quirked an eyebrow at him.

"And what is wrong with me?" she demanded.

"You're surly, unfriendly, and you always look as though you've sucked on a lemon."

"I do not look as though I have sucked on a lemon!"

"But you admit to being surly and unfriendly," Harry returned with a smirk of his own.

The corner of Daphne's lips twitched amusedly and she tucked a length of her blonde hair behind her ear.

"Touché," she replied, tilting her head slightly. "Maybe it wouldn't go as badly as Draco's offer," she added with a hum. "No, it would, but I wouldn't threaten you, Potter. You can at least hold a conversation without looking at my chest."

"Is there something to look at?"

"Watch it," Daphne warned.

Harry held up his hands as he laughed.

"If I thought it wouldn't cause a whole lot of trouble for both of us, then I'd consider it."

"But it would."

"It would," Harry agreed.

Daphne again offered him a smirk.

"You're not as stupid as you look, Potter. At least you understand the repercussions of your actions. I quite admire that…"

"But if I tell anyone, you'll kill me."

"Exactly," Daphne confirmed. "Besides, I won't be here for the ball. I'm going home for Christmas to be with my parents."

"You already had it planned."

"No," Daphne denied. "The idea came to me when the ball was mentioned. I wouldn't want to go with anyone in my house…"

"And you can't be seen going with someone else."

"That's the second smart thing you've said."

"I'm on a roll," Harry declared. "Wouldn't you like to go to the ball?"

Daphne shrugged.

"Not really," she answered with a frown. "I'll have to do all of that when I'm married off to some prat. It can wait."

Harry nodded his understanding.

Although he did not necessarily agree with the pureblood tradition of marriage for alliances or influence, it was deeply ingrained in the families.

"Well, you could always do me a favour."

"Why do I have a feeling this is going to be a completely ridiculous idea?"

"Because it is," Harry confirmed with a chuckle.

"Go on then," Daphne sighed. "I should really not be surprised by you anymore, Potter."

"Could you teach me to dance?"

Daphne blinked at him a few times before becoming thoughtful.

Harry was certain the girl was seeing what she could get out of the arrangement. An observation that proved to be true as she nodded carefully.

"I want you to do something for me."

"What?" Harry asked cautiously.

"I don't know," Daphne admitted, "but I want a future favour where you will help me if I need it."

"Deal."

"Just like that?" Daphne scoffed. "You don't know what I could ask of you."

Harry nodded as he offered his hand.

"You're not the friendliest of people, Greengrass, but you're not cruel either. You wouldn't ask anything of me that you knew I would be reluctant to do."

"I wouldn't be so sure," Daphne replied with a grin as she accepted the proffered limb.

(Break)

With Harry likely having gone to hide until the excitement of the Yule Ball blew over, which it wouldn't, Hermione had left the Common Room shortly after to spend some time in the library.

It was no longer the plight of the house-elves that occupied her time, but her own, regular workload.

For weeks she had been knitting hats and scarves in the hopes of liberating some of the poor creatures, only to have her efforts thrown back in her face.

The elves had begun to refuse to clean Gryffindor Tower, and when her housemates had discovered the reason, they had been very displeased with Hermione.

It hadn't taken long for Professor McGonagall to hear of her work, and the woman had put a stop to it immediately.

'Miss Granger, the house-elves have been a part of this castle for centuries. I can assure you they enjoy their work and would rather be nowhere else. If I see a single shred of knitted fabric, you will spend a month in detention!'

That had been that.

As much as Hermione wished to help the elves, she simply was not allowed to. It wasn't fair. Even if they did enjoy their work, it was only because they'd never experienced freedom.

Still, it was not worth being a pariah within her own house, nor provoking the ire of Professor McGonagall.

The woman was quite terrifying.

"Excuse me."

Hermione was startled by the gruff, heavy accent.

"I'm sorry, am I in your way?" she asked, taking a step back to allow the Bulgarian to pass.

Viktor Krum chuckled as he shook his head.

"No, not in my way," he assured her. "I was hoping to have a word with you."

"With me?"

Viktor nodded.

"I'm sure you have heard about the ball, da?"

"I have."

"Good. I would like to ask you to be my date."

Hermione simply stared at the older boy in disbelief for a moment.

"Sorry, I think you must have me confused with someone else," she finally replied.

"I do not think so," Viktor said with a frown. "Unless you have a twin sister who also spends lots of time in here?"

"I don't."

"Then I am not mistaken. Would you be my date for the ball?"

Hermione felt as though she was dreaming.

It wasn't a heady sense of overwhelming bliss that came over her, but the sheer disbelief that someone, let alone a famous Quidditch player would be asking her out.

"Why?" she asked.

Viktor's scowl deepened.

"I do not understand."

"Why would you ask me? You could go with almost any other girl here."

Viktor nodded and appeared to be quite uncomfortable.

"The other girls would only go with me because of who I am," he murmured. "They want to go with Viktor Krum, the Seeker. You would not go with me because of that."

"What makes you so certain?"

Viktor smiled.

"Because you are friends with Harry Potter. You are not dating him, no?"

Hermione scoffed at the very thought.

"Harry is just my friend."

"So, you are not a fame-hungry girl."

Hermione shook her head.

"That's not. Good reason to want to take someone to the ball," she pointed out.

"It is not my only reason," Viktor replied. "I have seen you in here almost every day. You are very pretty. When I saw that you were friends with Harry Potter, it helped make my mind up when I learned of the ball. Please, it is just so that I can go with someone who can forget I am a Quidditch player. Even if it is just as friends, I would enjoy your company."

His words were sincere, and any notion that Hermione felt that he was trying to trick her was forgotten as she nodded.

"Okay," she agreed. "I will go with you."

It was odd to see the usually surly Bulgarian beaming, and even more so as he all but skipped from the library.

Hermione took several moments to ponder what had just happened and didn't know what to think.

Worse yet, how would everyone else react when they found out she would be going to the ball with Viktor Krum?

(Break)

Having spent some time with Hedwig, Harry scarcely felt any better about the prospect of the ball and what it would entail. Daphne had agreed to give him dancing lessons, but at what cost?

The Slytherin would be shrewd with her eventual demand, though for now, Harry could not find it within himself to think so far ahead.

He needed to be able to dance.

It was bad enough that he would have to embarrass himself by asking a girl to be his date, but dancing in front of everyone in attendance was frightening.

Shaking his head, Harry mounted his Firebolt and took to the sky. At least up here, he was free from everything that was burdening him.

Well, for a while.

It wasn't long until the peace and thrill of flying evaporated, and he touched down in one of the stands.

The Quidditch stadium had been reverted back shortly after the task had finished and Harry found it hard to imagine that only a little over a week ago, he was here facing off with the dragon.

Throughout the days that followed, people stopped and asked him what it was he had done, and even Rita Skeeter had requested an interview.

The woman had been denied, and every other had been told very little.

Harry would not share his secrets. Not when they could be pivotal towards his future as they were likely to be.

With a deep sigh, he decided to head back towards the castle.

It was nearing dinner time now, and with it being a Hogsmeade weekend, he did have some time away from the school to look forward to.

Entering the Great Hall only a few moments later, he was accosted by a grinning Cedric Diggory who wrapped an arm around his shoulder.

"How are we today, Harry?" the older boy asked.

"Shut up, Diggory."

Cedric snorted amusedly

"I see you're not so pleased about the ball."

"You are?"

Cedric nodded.

"It will be fun. Lighten up and have some fun, Harry."

Harry shook his head.

"I don't want to dance in front of everyone, and I don't want to ask anyone on a date. It's bloody embarrassing."

Cedric patted his shoulder, his grin remaining in place.

"Take a look around," he urged. "There's not one girl in this room that would say no to you. You're a champion, and you're not a bad looking chap."

"Is this you asking me to be your date?" Harry returned.

Cedric cuffed him on the back of the head.

"Watch it, Potter," he warned. "No, I'm going with Cho."

"Chang? I bet the rest of the Hufflepuffs won't be happy about that."

Cedric shrugged.

"Just because we compete against each other in Quidditch, doesn't mean we can't get on off the pitch."

"Well, if you think I'm asking Malfoy, you've got another thing coming."

Cedric laughed, and for the first time since the announcement had been made, Harry cracked a smile of his own.

"Come on, why are you so against it?"

"I don't know. I don't want to make a prat of myself, and I don't know who I would want to go with."

"You could ask Delacour?"

"I'd sooner ask one of Hagrid's Blast-ended Skrewts. It would be less painful."

"You're probably right," Cedric murmured. "Then just ask someone you have things in common with. It will only be bad if you think it will. Sometimes, you just have to do it. The longer you wait to ask someone, the harder it will be."

Harry nodded his understanding.

"I know," he sighed.

"Any idea who you might ask?"

Harry shook his head, doing his best to not look at the females in the room who were staring at both him and Cedric.

"You could be really ballsy and ask Maxime."

"Alright, that's enough out of you," Harry chortled as he pushed a guffawing Cedric away from him. "Honestly, I thought you were a decent bloke. You as much a prat as everyone else here."

"Must be something in the pumpkin juice," Cedric replied. "Fine, I will make a deal with you."

"A deal?"

"Well, an ultimatum," Cedric corrected, his eyes alert with mirth. "I'll give you until lunchtime tomorrow to decide on a date, or I will find one for you."

"You bloody well won't!"

"Try me, Potter," Cedric returned. "I'm not spending the next week or so staring at your miserable face whilst you crap your pants at the thought of asking someone. You have until lunchtime tomorrow. I would suggest you take a nice long bath to think it over. Take the egg with you. You might learn a thing or two," he added, checking to make sure their conversation had not been overheard.

With that, he headed towards the Hufflepuff table, leaving a frowning Harry behind.

After a moment, he made his way to the Gryffindor table.

"What did Cedric want?" Hermione asked.

"To be a pain in the arse," Harry grumbled as he helped himself to some roast beef.

Why would Cedric ask him to take the egg in the bath?

Before Harry could ponder it, his thoughts were interrupted once more by Ron slumping into the seat next to him, his expression one of dismay.

"What is wrong with you?" one of the twins asked their younger brother.

"He asked Delacour to the ball," Neville explained worriedly. "I should say that he tried to. He asked and ran away before she answered."

"I don't know what happened," Ron murmured. "I bumped into her outside the library, and I just blurted it out. She looked at me like I'd grown a second head or something."

None knew what to say to comfort the boy.

"Trust me, you had a lucky escape," Harry murmured.

"And what about you, Harry? Have you decided what lucky witch you will be taking?"

"I really don't want to talk about it," Harry groaned. "I just had an earful from Diggory."

"And rightly so," the other twin piped up. "The girls are being snapped up left, right, and centre. You don't want the slim pickings."

"He's right," Ron broke in. "Imagine if you had to take Millicent Bulstrode. You'd be better off going alone."

The thought filled Harry with dread, and his gaze swept over the length and breadth of the room until his gaze came to rest on someone sitting a few spaces down on the opposite side of the table.

He opened his mouth to speak, only to stand suddenly.

"What a fucking idiot!" he groaned to himself.

"What are you talking about, Harry?" Hermione asked.

Harry said nothing as he all but sprinted from the room.

He was an idiot. Cedric could not have made it any clearer even if he'd put Harry and the egg in the bath together himself.

All the way to the tower, Harry cursed his distracted mind, and even after he'd retrieved the egg and made his way to the seventh floor, he hadn't finished.

He was not usually so dense, and the thoughts of the ball and everything else pertaining to it had made him almost miss the obvious clue Cedric had given him.

Still, he finally got it, and Harry released a deep breath as he ran the water for the enormous bath in his hidden room.

Soon enough, he would know what the second task entailed, and he could begin preparing for it without delay.

(Break)

"Do you have any idea what kind of dress you are going to get?" Alicia asked.

The three Chasers were seated in front of the fireplace, attempting to complete their homework with little success. Both Angelina and Alicia were distracted by the impending shopping trip they would be making in the morning.

The former placed her quill to her chin thoughtfully.

"Maybe red," she decided. "I'm not sure."

"I'm going with blue," Alicia declared. "I don't wear blue often."

"What colour do you think Fred and George will wear?" Katie questioned.

"As long as it isn't orange," Angelina snorted.

"Knowing them, they will," Alicia said amusedly. "You know what they're like."

"Well, at least we will have a good time. You can't be bored around them."

That was true.

Katie couldn't recall a single moment in their company that they had been anything less than entertaining. It helped that behind their comedic countenance that both twins were some of the nicest people she had ever met.

Yes, they pulled their fair share of pranks and could be outright nuisances, but they were not cruel.

"He looks a little happier," Angelina commented, nodding towards Harry as he entered the Common Room.

He did.

Since his name had emerged from the goblet, Harry had been tense, and seldom seen outside of his lessons. He was given his all to the tournament, and he'd proven himself in the first task.

Where he had learned such magic was anyone's guess, but he'd left all who had witnessed it in no doubt that he was capable of competing with the other champions.

Nonetheless, it was clear Harry was not enjoying himself.

It was strange.

Without Quidditch at Hogwarts, the dynamic of the school was not the same. The Gryffindor team still spoke to one another regularly, though Harry seemed to be absent from almost everything now.

Even before the tournament had commenced, he was distant.

Had something happened?

Fred and George seemed to think so but they would not mention anything when Harry was discussed. What was clear, however, was that both were quite concerned about their youngest teammate.

"Katie, what are you doing for Christmas?"

She jumped out of her skin, startled by the voice that invaded her thoughts.

"I'm going home," she answered. "I always do."

Harry nodded.

"So, you wouldn't want to go to the ball with me?"

It was odd to see the usually confident Harry quite nervous. He hadn't been that way since his first year, though why Katie felt such a feeling herself, she didn't know.

"Me?" she asked in disbelief, finally finding her voice having been taken aback by being invited.

Katie was not a typical girl like most others her age. She liked to rough it on the Quidditch pitch, something she'd learned by growing up with two older brothers.

No one had ever asked her on a date of any sort, nor shown that kind of interest in her, and she looked to her friends questioningly.

Both were wide-eyed and appeared to be on the verge of giggling excitedly, and the alien feeling became quite contagious.

"This is the part where you say 'yes'," Angelina whispered encouragingly.

Katie's gaze shifted back to Harry.

"If you're sure," she replied, chiding herself for her own nerves getting the better of her

It was a confusing moment for the girl and had come as unexpectedly as anything else she'd ever experienced.

Harry nodded; evidently having spoken all the words he was capable of until now.

"Then I would love to go with you," Katie replied with a smile.

Harry breathed a sigh of relief, and she relaxed too, her thoughts beginning to catch up with her.

"That means I have to wear a dress, doesn't it?"

"It does."

Katie frowned.

"I've never worn a dress."

"I'm sure you will look great," Harry said dismissively.

Katie felt her cheeks redden and was grateful that he took his leave.

"Did that just happen?" she asked the others, uncertain if she'd simply had a very surreal moment.

"It did," Angelina confirmed, and Katie yelped in surprise as she was pulled between the giggling, excited girls.

Once more, she found that the feeling was quite contagious and Katie could not hide her own elation.

"Oh, tomorrow is going to be fun," Alicia declared. "We will find you a dress, and some shoes, and anything else you will need."

"Anything else I will need?"

"Well, you'll need a bag, and maybe some other accessories."

"Why?"

"Because you're going to a ball," Angelina sighed. "There's so much to do."

Katie had never seen either of the other girls acting so… girly.

The three of them never bothered wearing make-up, nor wearing femmine clothes. What was the point when they would only get ruined atop a broom?

Katie couldn't remember the last time she wore anything other than jeans, or shorts in the summer, let alone a dress.

That would soon change, and though the prospect of it was quite daunting, she wasn't against it.

Maybe it would be fun?

Regardless of her own reticence, she couldn't be any more pleased that Harry had asked her, though there was one problem.

"Can either of you teach me to dance?" she asked desperately. "I haven't done it since I was seven."

Her mother had signed her up for lessons for a little over a year as a counter to all the playing in the mud and roughhousing with her brothers she did. They had stopped when Katie had vocalised that she didn't find the hobby interesting and that she would rather be flying instead of parading around a room with other girls she did not get on with.

"I can help," Angelina assured her. "My mother was quite insistent that I would have to dance if I was determined to play Quidditch."

Katie nodded gratefully, and though the excitement she felt remained, the nervousness was there too.

Beyond the dresses, the dancing, and everything else that had happened in the last few moments, it was the prospect of attending the event with Harry that appealed to her most.

He was mischievous, but he had always been sweet in his own way.

It certainly didn't hurt that he was rather easy on the eyes. Katie had heard several girls mentioning it in passing, and even Alicia and Angelina commented on it.

Which begged the question; why had he asked her when he could have taken so many others?

(Break)

"I would like for you to explain this to me," the Dark Lord urged as he pointed to the article that had been printed in The Daily Prophet the day after the first task.

Barty had been pondering what had occurred himself.

Despite his coaxing, Potter had chosen to ignore his advice, yet, the boy had completely the task admirably.

A little too admirably if truth be told.

Barty was amongst the rest of the crowd who had been stunned by Potter's performance.

"What do you wish for me to explain, My Lord?"

"How Potter is capable of this kind of magic."

"Trickery," Barty replied. "Most of what he did was nothing more than simple spells disguised to appear more complex."

"And the magic he used to block the dragon fire."

"That, I cannot explain, My Lord," Barty sighed. "It was quite impressive, but nothing to be concerned with. Potter is certainly above his peers, but not so much so that you should be worried. I can assure you, My Lord, he is no threat to you."

Barty's gaze did not waver as his master's own bored into it.

After a moment, Voldemort nodded his infant head.

Barty had not lied.

Potter could likely kill some of the Death Eaters he would soon be faced with, but he was not even close in comparison to the Dark Lord.

"Is there anything else, My Lord? I must return to Hogsmeade."

"You are dismissed, Barty, but keep me informed of anything that catches your attention."

"Of course, My Lord," Barty complied with a bow.

A part of him knew that he was not being completely honest with all he had become aware of, but his treachery would serve a purpose and ensure only those truly loyal to the Dark Lord would remain at his side.

There was no place for the likes of the fickle Lucius and the others that had forsaken their master.

It was indeed a risk, however, but Barty felt he had a measure of Potter's character. Before he would die, he would fight for all he was worth, and if fortune shined on the Dark Lord, the boy would take the unworthy with him.

(Break)

Hogsmeade was a rather beautiful village. It was quaint, and some would say dated, but Gabrielle found that there was an undeniable charm about the place.

She walked the cobbled streets with the other students, something she would not be able to do so freely when her Veela heritage reared its head for the first time.

For now, her magic was not so discernible, and certainly not amongst so many other magical people and buildings.

How long that would last, she didn't know, but she was determined to enjoy it before she would be more inclined to keep away from larger crowds, for theirs' and her own good.

It had taken Fleur months to begin to control her magic, and Gabrielle expected it would be much the same for her.

Her older sister had missed weeks of her fifth year because of it.

Fleur had changed, or maybe it was that everyone just treated her differently when she did return to Beauxbatons?

The other students had always been rather wary of them for what they were, but Fleur had certainly had it worse than Gabrielle thus far. The older girls were jealous, and the boys simply did not know how to act around her.

It worry Gabrielle that it would inevitably be the same with her, but the difference between her and Fleur was that Gabrielle did not care.

She was proud of her heritage and would not allow the views of any other to spoil her school life the way Fleur had.

Gabrielle paused as she heard a name mentioned that she was familiar with by a group of students in yellow-trimmed robes, though she could not understand much of what else was said.

Harry Potter.

She cursed her lack of fluence in the language, but she listened, nonetheless.

"He's going with Katie Bell."

"I thought he'd pick someone of a higher status."

"Like you, Susan?"

Gabrielle frowned as the redhead blushed and decided that there was no point in listening in any further. Instead, she wanted to sample some of the butterbeer Fleur had suggested she try.

Spotting The Three Broomsticks only a short distance away, she entered to find the pub packed with students from all three of the schools, and amongst them sitting at a table with his two friends was Harry Potter.

With a smirk, Gabrielle made her way towards him, and took the unoccupied seat next to Harry.

"Hello, Harry Potter," she said cheerily in English.

"Better," the boy chuckled.

Gabrielle nodded as she picked up his bottle and took a sip whilst the others looked at her as though she had lost her mind.

"This is good," she declared.

Potter raised an eyebrow at her before shaking his head amusedly.

"Would you like one of your own?"

Gabrielle nodded.

"That would be most appreciated."

He muttered something in English before heading to the bar, leaving Gabrielle with the redheaded boy and the brown-haired girl.

"You are Fleur's sister?"

"You can speak French?"

"A little," the girl replied sheepishly. "I'm not very good."

"My English is not very good," Gabrielle sighed. "Harry's French is excellent."

"Here you go," Harry murmured as he returned, placing four more bottles of Butterbeer on the table.

"Thank you," Gabrielle said appreciatively before draining half of hers. "I like things that are sweet. It's a veela thing."

Harry chuckled as he nodded his understanding.

"Your sister will be angry if she knows you are sitting with me."

"It is my sister I wanted to speak with you about."

Harry frowned.

Gabrielle knew he and Fleur did not get on, but she believed they would if they weren't hostile towards one another. Fleur would never likely admit she had been wrong about Harry, so, Gabrielle was hopeful the boy would be less stubborn.

"What about her?"

"I would like you to invite her to the ball."

Harry looked at her questioningly.

"Why?"

"Because you won't just stare at her like an idiot or treat her like a pig."

Harry shook her head and smiled sadly.

"I get that it is hard for her, but there is no excuse for how she has been towards me since my name came out of the goblet. Sorry, Gabrielle, but I won't do it. Besides, I already have a date."

Gabrielle nodded her understanding.

"And you did not think to ask me? I'm very offended, Harry Potter."

"You just tried to get me to go with your sister."

"That doesn't mean I can't be offended that you didn't ask me," Gabrielle returned with a smirk.

He simply gaped at her until Gabrielle giggled.

"I was joking," she huffed. "Maybe one day I will go to a ball, but not this one. Too many people are ignorant and it would not be a good look for you if you took me," she added, gesturing to herself. "Not that I would have said yes to you."

"Then why all the fuss?"

"I like to keep people on their toes," Gabrielle replied as she stood and finished the rest of her drink. "Thank you, Harry Potter. We will speak again, I'm sure."

With that, she kissed him on the cheek and left the dumbfounded boy in her wake.

Truthfully, she had not expected Harry to agree to ask Fleur to the ball, but it had been amusing to watch so many emotions flicker across his expression.

Perhaps if Gabrielle had already reached a milestone on her maturity, she would have liked for Harry to have asked her.

He was fun to be around and was able to fend off the veela magic.

Gabrielle shook her head of those thoughts.

With how frosty the relationship was between him and Fleur, her sister would be furious, which only made it appeal more to the younger veela.

No, despite how much she enjoyed messing with people, there was a line that shouldn't be crossed, and Gabrielle did not think that Fleur and Harry being at odds more so than they were now would be a good thing.

Perhaps it would be best to keep her distance from the boy, though she wouldn't ignore him if they happened to bump into one another.

Hogwarts was not so big, after all.

That thought brought a smile to her lips.