Chapter 55, everybody! In which the boys do some color corrections…good news, Ron no longer has to wear maroon.
So my first college had 'dating outings' and formals and the two things I learned from this was 1) dating is annoying, especially when it's supposed to be a campus-wide thing, and 2) boys behave in a very entertaining fashion when it's the girls asking them instead of the other way around. X'D
In other news: there's been some debate on whether or not there was an exit clause in the Triwizard Tournament that was skipped over because Barty Sr. was imperiused. This fic explores that, although it does mean that a big section I had already written up gets axed again. One of these days, I ought to do something like an omake section so you all can see what gets cut.
Moving on: if you're ever at a meal with multiple place settings, you start out and go in, that's the rule. Also Sirius has subscribed to the joy that is magical moving sweaters.
MyWriterBlock, thanks for the reviews! Uh, oops—fixed now. ^^; And hmm.
Harry Potter © 1997 J.K. Rowling
The approaching Yule Ball also had Ron and Harry pulling out their dress robes; Ron fished out his copy of Charms for Charming Customization upon registering that yes, his dress robes were maroon, and that was the least egregious thing about it.
"Why," Ron moaned, flipping through the book. "I'd look like my Great Aunt Tessie if I wore those." Sniff at it—"I'd smell like my Great Aunt Tessie!"
"Maybe there's like…an air-freshener spell," Harry said, flipping through his Standard Book of Spells. "I know there's scourgify, but that's for dirt, not smells."
Harry did manage to find one, and after Ron decided that chrysanthemum smell was better than whatever musty scent it was before, they moved on to trying to at least change the color.
"So according to this chromatic spell, it's easier to nudge it over to a color close to it on the color wheel than to flip it entirely," Ron said, tapping on the color wheel on the page. "So…maroon's sort of a red color…."
"Probably better to go towards purple," Harry said. "If you turn it orange you might have to wear it to the Chudley Cannons games."
"Plus it'd clash with your hair," Seamus tossed over.
It took a lot of poking and prodding and muttering before it got to a wine color, a little more before it got over to a purple, and by the time they had to go to dinner they were having serious debates on whether or not to push it a little farther to a dark blue.
"Because if you look at the wheel here, orange and blue are complementary, so that'd go well with my hair," Ron said, flipping through the book.
"But would it work with your complexion?" Dean asked.
"Is Ron studying?" Hermione asked, stunned.
"The alternative was Ron going to the Yule Ball in maroon," Harry told her.
"The good news is, now that we know this works I have a lot of sweaters to go through," Ron said.
"We probably should have practiced on the sweaters."
"Probably."
"So you boys do have dates?" Hermione asked as they sat down. "You especially need one, Harry, since you're one of the champions."
"Thanks, Hermione, I didn't need that reminder," Harry said, grimacing. "And it's taken care of."
"So who are you going out with?"
"No clue," Ron said.
Harry almost echoed him before something else occurred to him. "You didn't tell us your date, I don't have to tell you mine."
"You don't know, do you?" Hermione asked.
"We don't know," Harry admitted. "We signed up for Fred and George's dating thing."
"I had to pay extra for a centered nose," Ron muttered.
"You signed up for that blind date thing?" Hermione asked, sounding like she couldn't decide between baffled and appalled.
"You don't understand the pressure boys are under with this dating thing," Ron said. "We're expected to keep track of who everyone is with already so we don't ask someone who's already taken, if the first person says no and we ask again somehow that person has already heard about the first person and then we get to hear about how they're second choice get out—it's a lot of pressure!" Gesture at her. "Why don't the girls do the asking? You all already network and know who's going with who, why don't you just handle that final bit?"
"Because we like watching you sweat?" Hermione asked, eyebrow raised.
"I knew it."
They headed back for the dorm with the intent to tackle the lace next, were intercepted by Professor McGonagall who asked for Harry to follow her to the headmaster's office. Harry and Ron looked at each other, shrugged, trailed after her, Hermione following.
"Ah, Harry, good," Dumbledore said when they came into his crowded office. "And Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger—technically your presence isn't required for this, but I had taken out too many teacups so this works out well."
"Uh, yeah—Percy why are you here?" Ron asked.
Percy, meanwhile, was practically bouncing on his heels. "We've figured it out."
Which was when Harry registered the Goblet of Fire on Dumbledore's desk.
"Wait—you've figured it out? I can get out of the tournament?" Harry blurted.
"Yep—this is Weatherby, he's the one Mr. Crouch kept getting me confused with—turns out he was Imperiused," Percy muttered.
"Professor Slughorn wrote me," Weatherby said. "And Mr. Weasley and I have been combing through wizarding law ever since."
"And we've finally found it," Percy said, indicating everyone in the room. "We have your formal resignation from the tournament drawn up, it needs to be signed by you, your guardians in the event you're not of majority, the other participants, and your respective headmasters—Professor Dumbledore we looked and you do need to sign under Harry and Cassius' names so twice—we put it back in the Goblet, and if it accepts the resignation…yes Ron."
"What happens to Harry aside from getting out of this?" Ron asked. "This sounds like there's something extra involved."
"You're not allowed to participate in the Triwizard Tournament for the next hundred and fifty years," Percy told Harry.
"That sounds like something I can live with," Harry said, grinning and suddenly feeling very light. "Where do I sign?"
Everyone took their turn at the paper, and when the last signature was on the paper Percy rolled it up and put it in the Goblet, everyone watching it warily—
Hermione and Fleur squeaked when the Goblet suddenly burst into flame, a piece of singed paper fluttering around before Dumbledore caught it, read it, handed it to Percy. Percy accepted it, read it….
"Harry Potter, you are officially out of the Triwizard Tournament," Percy told him.
"A pity," Fleur told Krum as the Hogwarts students celebrated. "I was starting to enjoy him playing."
"At least you don't have to figure out what to do about the lake," Cassius told Harry.
"Do what?" Harry asked blankly.
As it turned out, Harry had evaded taking a February dip in the Black Lake.
The more immediate joy of being out of the Triwizard Tournament was that Harry was no longer expected to be one of the first ones out on the dance floor. This didn't mean they weren't receiving dance lessons—Professor McGonagall was very insistent they learn how to conduct themselves during the ball, which also included learning how to use a varied place setting.
"You start outside and work your way in," Professor McGonagall told them, pacing along the length of the table. "Do not drink out of the finger bowl. Yes Mr. Potter."
"Which one is that?" Harry asked.
"The small bowl of water with the lemon wedges in front of you. Any other questions?" she asked, scanning the table. "Ask now, I will not be coming to your rescue during the ball."
Which was the general opinion of the professors, seeing as how all of them were insisting that they learn some etiquette and how to conduct themselves.
But soon Christmas Eve was upon them, Ron's dress robes were no longer horrible (blue with the lace turned into something resembling snowflakes), and they were ready for the Yule Ball.
Before that, however, Harry, Hermione, and the Weasleys were all filing for the headmaster's office.
"You will be heading for the Burrow," Dumbledore said, holding out a case of floo powder for them. "As I understand it, the Ministry doesn't feel comfortable with adding a house to the floo network when the house is still unfinished. When it's time for you to come back, the fireplace to ask for is Hogwarts headmaster's office—I'm not sure if there's other schools linked to the floo network, but it's probably best to err on the side of caution."
Harry nodded, made sure to practice a few times before taking his turn at the fire—landed on a poofy dog bed when he stumbled out of the fire, a black dog bounding around him before licking his face.
"Sirius stop give him air," Remus said, hauling Harry up. "We had moved the bed this morning—Ron shoved it back."
"Thanks, Ron," Harry said, exchanging thumbs-up with his friend.
Sirius barked one last time before shifting back to a person—Harry had to take a minute at his Christmas sweater, resplendent with blinking lights and drifting snowflakes.
"How've you been, Harry?" Sirius asked, ruffling his hair. "Are you excited for the ball? Who'd you ask out?"
"Good, maybe, I don't know," Harry said, answering in order. "Fred and George arranged it."
"We had to get everyone sorted out last night, we'll be putting family organizations into the stockings," Fred said.
"Yes your date has a centered nose," George told Ron when he opened his mouth.
"Good," Ron declared.
"Boys," Hermione sighed.