Winter fell over Hogwarts like a comfy cloak. Students added layers as they roamed the halls. The Beauxbatons delegation shivered at all hours and complained of the dreadful chill, while the Durmstrang students marveled at Britain's warm climate. Quietly, a small clandestine group was working dutifully on preparations for something big… but that was a story that would take the stage later. Right now, the thing that everyone cared about was—
"The Yule Ball!" Hermione said suddenly, late one night, while she sat beside Harry and Ron in Astronomy class. Usually idle chatting was forbidden, but tonight the strict Professor Sinistra was uncharacteristically spacey (pun not intended) and was too distracted stargazing to police her students properly.
"What about it?" Harry asked.
"Well, just that It's coming up," Hermione said. "Haven't you given some thought on who you guys are going to take?"
"That's easy isn't it?" Ron asked. "I'm going with Padma and Parvati, and Harry will be going with Fleur."
Hermione grimaced. "McGonagall won't let you take two dates."
"She has to! It's in the rules!" Ron said. "Once, the last time they held the ball, there was a Ravenclaw bloke who showed up with five witches. Sounds like a hell of a guy… But if he got away with it, I'll be alright!"
"Ron's not wrong," Harry said. "The rules state that you need to have a date, but it doesn't say anything about needing just one. They don't even have to be a student at the school."
Hermione pursed her lips. She turned to face Harry, not even hiding the fact that she wasn't using her telescope. Professor Sinistra still said nothing, sitting in the middle of the room and, occasionally, giggling unprompted.
"And is he right about you, too?" Hermione asked sourly. "You're going with Fleur Delacour?"
"He'd be nuts not to!" Ron said. "Have you seen the way she looks at him? She'd totally put out on the first night."
Already in an irritated mood, Hermione struck Ron in the side of the stomach, causing him to wince and rub his side.
"What was that for?" he muttered.
"Fleur did ask me," Harry admitted. "I told her I'd think about it."
Ron forgot all about his aching side as he clapped Harry on the shoulder.
"If she came up to me herself, I'd have agreed in a second!" he told Harry. "Playing hard to get at a time like that… You're a better man than I am."
"Obviously," Hermione sniffed.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Ron demanded.
"Make sense of it yourself."
"Well if you're talking so much, who are you going with?"
Hermione opened her mouth, hesitated, cast a sidelong look at Harry, and waited.
"Sorry," Harry said with an apologetic smile. "I'm booked."
Hermione sighed. "I'll probably just go with Neville as a friend."
Harry ribbed Ron with his elbow before Ron could say anything inflammatory. He could see his best mate was thinking about it, but now wasn't the time to tease Hermione. She was liable to bite their heads off.
Professor Sinistra suddenly stood up, clapping her hands to gather the attention of her class, all of whom had been drawn into private conversations like the one between Harry and his friends. Most of them were probably talking about the same topic, too. This was the final class of the term, and from here, it was a short wait until the day of the ball.
"Alright, all of you. You're free to leave now, so go on and get to bed," Sinistra announced.
"Now?" Hermione asked. "But Professor, class time isn't done yet!"
She earned glares from other students for this, but fortunately for the class, Sinistra just let out one of those strange giggles.
"Consider it a Christmas gift," she said. "I'm in a good mood, and the stars will still be here after break."
Once they had packed and left, climbing down the dark stairs of the Astronomy tower, Ron said, "I wonder what's got her in such a good mood."
"Maybe something pleasant happened," Hermione said.
"Or she's got something that she's looking forward to," Harry said innocently.
O-O-O
Nymphadora Tonks found herself in a quandary. The reason? She found herself with two nemeses.
That wouldn't do. Everyone knew that a nemesis was an exclusive deal, like a marriage. Dumbledore and Grindelwald, for example. Or Merlin, who stayed faithful to Morgana for his entire life, thwarting each other's schemes back and forth as hero and villain.
Tonks thought that Harry's 'Tom Riddle' character could finally be her nemesis. And for a while, he was! Then an even more nefarious enemy entered her life.
Paperwork.
Tonks groaned, slamming her forehead into her desk. She shifted her head to the side, resting on her cheek and looking out the nearest window. The Ministry charms that simulated a real outdoor scene had been tweaked for the season, snowflakes spiraling past.
"I want to go home…" Tonks moaned.
"Did you say something, trainee?"
Tonks shot up so fast that her chair nearly tipped back. She snapped off a salute. "No Ma'am! Nothing at all!"
The Auror office was dim and close to empty. It was late, long past the time most of the force got off duty, and Christmas was inching closer to boot. Unfortunately, Tonks was still in the doghouse with her boss for banging a high-priority criminal in his holding cell and facilitating his escape. Even her heroics at Hogwarts hadn't been enough to let her escape her punishment of handling extra administrative duties, and now the boss who had it out for her just caught Tonks slacking on the job.
Amelia Bones was bound to be furious. So… why was she smiling?
"It sounded like you were saying you wanted to go home, trainee," Amelia said.
"What? Never," Tonks said. "I was just… yawning! That's it! I wasn't saying anything, just sighing a little bit before I got back to work—"
"You can go."
"I actually dream of doing paperwork every night when I...Pardon?" Tonks said. "I can leave?"
"You can leave," Amelia confirmed.
"And this isn't one of those things where I try to walk out, and then you say, 'But if you step out that door, consider yourself out of a job!'"
As Tonks imitated her boss, she reflexively copied Amelia's voice perfectly, to the point that it was indistinguishable from the real thing.
"How creepy," Amelia said, still in an unnervingly bright mood. "But when I said that you can go, I meant that you are free to leave. Normally. The work will still be here in the morning."
Tonks didn't hesitate.
"You're the best Boss!"
She scrambled her papers into something that vaguely resembled organization and tore out of the office before Amelia could have any second thoughts.
"I wonder what's got her in such a good mood?" Tonks wondered as she fled. "Maybe something nice happened…"
Whatever the cause, she wasn't complaining. For the first night that week, Tonks was in bed before midnight. She slept like a bug.
O-O-O
The days ticked by like snowflakes in a winter flurry. The closer the ball got, the more excited the castle grew. Giggles and gossip pinged off the ancient stone walls, lending them a whole new life. Harry could scarcely walk the halls without being stopped by at least three girls eager to be his date, many of them older than himself. Harry knew for a fact from his past lives that this wasn't just because of his fame. That viral Witch Weekly photoshoot was doing the real heavy lifting.
However, Harry turned all of them down. There were rumors that he'd agreed to go with Fleur, but no one could get a straight answer out of Harry himself. The only thing he was adamant about was that he wouldn't be alone that night.
In addition to the rising fervor among students, a few of the more observant students noticed another change. Ministry officials were flocking to the school, running about doing all kinds of work. Though all of them were tight-lipped, telling any curious student that it was classified business.
Then, the day arrived.
That morning girls seemed to be everywhere, eagerly awaiting what was coming that evening. Then, as afternoon dawned, they disappeared. Hermione was the last to go and the first to reappear, coming back in a pretty purple dress with her hair done. It was simple, a bit elegant, but overall relaxed. She and Neville sat together on a couch in the common room, chatting like friends. Harry hung out with them for a while, then eventually excused himself to get ready when there was only half an hour until the ball.
"Can't you just tell us who you're going with already?" Hermione complained. It had been eating at her that she was unable to figure it out.
"That would give away the surprise," Harry said.
"Exactly!"
Laughing, Harry said, "You'll see soon enough."
He climbed the stairs to his dormitory, but he never got there. As he swung his foot up to the next step, his ordinary boots turned into exquisite dress shoes. When he reached the step after that, his robes had been transfigured into top-of-the-line silk dress robes. Another step and his hair styled itself, parting over his forehead in a tousled — yet elegant — pattern. Then, he got to the last step, and when he crested it, an identical copy of himself appeared from his shadow, dressed in the same immaculate clothes.
"You remember my orders, right?" Harry asked.
"Take the blond to the dance. Do as she wishes. Be a good date." Death frowned. "What does 'good' mean, in this context?"
"Like, make her happy and stuff," Harry said. "Flatter her. Get her drinks. Try to do things she wants before she asks."
"I see," Death said.
Harry clapped his servant on the shoulder. "Good man! I'm off to meet up with my dates now. Just head down with Ron and do your best. Toodles!"
He pointed his hand at the solid stone wall of Hogwarts, and the rock folded like paper, bending open for him. Harry stepped forward, walked off the edge, and plummeted toward the ground. Death leaned over the gap, watching him fall for a moment. He descended about five floors, arrested his momentum with a swipe of his hand, and opened a hole to re-enter the castle as if nothing happened. When he disappeared, both of the holes in the wall that opened shut themselves. Death tilted its head.
Its master hadn't even used magic. He just requested an opening, and the castle had responded. It was almost like the castle was alive. For once, a smile formed on Death's face.
"Perhaps you'll be mine, one day," it whispered, reaching out to stroke the stone wall.
The castle itself flinched away from Death's touch, the wall sinking away to avoid it. Death just chuckled. Running, after all, was futile.
"Harry? What are you up to over there? Damn, mate, you really cleaned up!"
Ron let out a low whistle as he looked at Harry's appearance. He himself was wearing extremely expensive robes which looked brand new, gold with a garish red trim. Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnegan stood behind him, also well-dressed. The group pulled Death along with them, taking it downstairs.
When they exited the common room, she was waiting there, resplendent in a baby-blue dress that matched her school's emblem. Tonight, Fleur Delacour made everyone's jaws drop, even the women who saw her.
She stepped forward, touching Death's cheeks with hands shrouded in shoulder-length white gloves. She leaned in front of Death's face, staring into its impassive black eyes, and inhaled deeply.
"You smell even better than usual today, mon amor," she said.
Death pondered what to do. They were surrounded by an audience, the rest of the Gryffindor attendees gaping at them. Death recalled its master's instructions to please this woman and 'do things she wants before she asks for them'.
Death's arms wrapped around Fleur the way it had witnessed mortals do for millennia, pulling her close and kissing her deeply. Fleur shuddered at the touch… then returned the kiss tenfold.
If not for the others with them, they might never have made it down to the ballroom.
O-O-O
Hermione and Neville were two of the very first attendees to reach the Great Hall. They sat down at one of the many small tables spaced around the room, bedecked with spotless white tablecloths. From there, they watched couples flood into the room after them. The Triwizard Champions would come last, but Hermione kept her eyes peeled for Harry.
"You're sure he won't just come with Fleur?" Neville asked.
"He wouldn't do that," Hermione insisted. "He knows how shallow she is."
"Yeah, but…" Neville swallowed the rest of his sentence as Hermione briefly glared at him. "Well, who do you think he's going with?"
"I don't know," Hermione complained. "That's why I'm trying to find out!"
Seaumus Finnegan was arm-in-arm with Lavender Brown. Draco Malfoy was going with a third year that Hermione didn't recognize. His standing really had fallen like a rock lately if the only date he could get was someone younger. After a long period without seeing anyone she recognized, Hermione reluctantly turned her attention toward the rest of the room.
Tables like the one she and Neville were at had been arrayed in a horseshoe formation along the edges of the room. The floor in the center of the room had been cleared out for dancing, and behind that was a stage for music, the Weird Sisters setting up their instruments for a show. Hermione had run into a few girls who cared more about them than the ball itself, ready to treat the night like a private concert.
To the sides of the stage were two longer tables with gold and silver trim. The table on the right accommodated Hogwarts' staff, while the one on the left was for Ministry officials. While Hermione studied this part of the room, a woman stood up at either of the tables. Professor Sinistra left the staff table, a gorgeous golden gown hugging her curves and sparkling against her dark skin. Meanwhile, Amelia Bones, head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, moved in the same direction. She was wearing a cream dress that had its work cut out for it clinging to her huge swinging bust. Both of these women were moving independently of each other, walking toward something they had seen. They seemed to be heading toward…the exit?
Hermione twisted around as she heard a commotion. McGonagall's Scottish accent rose above the clamor in the ballroom. The head of Gryffindor house had the job of screening those trying to get in, ensuring that everyone had a proper date. It seemed someone had tried to slip past her.
"—disappointed in you!" McGonagall said. "You of all people should know better than this!"
"Who's she talking to?" Hermione asked.
"I think I'm seeing this wrong…" Neville said. "But, from here, it looks like Harry."
Hermione leaned over the table, planting her hands down and squinting. Sure enough, that was Harry standing in front of McGonagall. How could he not have gotten a date? Hermione had seen how many girls asked him! Including herself…
He said something to McGonagall in too measured a tone to be heard, but Mcgonagall's response was easily audible.
"What do you mean they're already here? I've personally checked that every student coming in was part of a proper couple—"
"That would be your problem," said Amelia Bones. "You were only checking the students."
She and Professor Sinistra had arrived on the scene, and Hermione finally realized what they'd been heading to. Or, who they'd been heading to.
Amelia took Harry's left hand, tucking it under her arm (and rubbing it on her bust in a way that Hermione was sure wasn't accidental. Meanwhile, Professor Sinistra did the same with Harry's right hand, looking horribly embarrassed and utterly happy at the same time.
"Well, there you have it professor," Harry said. He wasn't talking any louder, but the entire Great Hall had gotten so quiet that his voice naturally carried through it. "My dates are here, so I'll be off."
He led the lovely older ladies past a stunned McGonagall, who had, for once, completely lost her composure. Hermione realized that Harry was heading over to them.
"Hey Hermione, Neville!" he greeted. "What'd I miss?"
"Only one thing's happened, and you were in the middle of it," Neville said. He hesitated for a moment, working up his courage. "Is this really allowed?"
"You can take multiple partners, and they don't have to be students," Hermione muttered, recalling Harry's words in their Astronomy Class. She shot to her feet, stabbing a finger toward him. "That's how you knew that!"
"Yes, he looked through every loophole to figure out the most outrageous thing he could get away with," Amelia Bones said. "He didn't mention until quite late why he wanted to know if it was possible take two people, though."
She cast a look at Professor Sinistra that made the other woman flinch. Hermione got the impression that this was almost as much of a shock to each of them as it had been for her.
"I couldn't decide to take, so I picked both." Harry shrugged. "It worked for Ron."
Hermione hated that he was right.
There were only four seats at each table, so Harry excused himself and his dates to find an empty one. Hermione and Neville watched them go, Hermione slowly sitting back down, Neville scratching the side of his head.
"He's certainly confident," he said.
"That's one way to put it," Hermione grumbled.
"But the crazy thing is, it kind of works for him."
Again, Hermione hated that she knew he was right.
The lights soon dimmed. The champions entered the room— Ron came first as the champion with the best score in the first task, Padma and Parvati hanging off his arms. They had traditional red dresses in the style of their Indian ancestry, both looking utterly gorgeous.
After that was Fleur, the second best performer from the first task. And with her was…
Hermione smashed her hands on the table. "Harry?!"
It was definitely her friend with Fleur hanging off of him. The part-veela was barely standing up straight, leaning on him as if drunk, trying to touch his body as much as possible. Hermione twisted her neck looking around the room, trying to see where Amelia Bones and Professor Sinistra were… but there were too many bodies in the way, and she couldn't catch a single glimpse of them anywhere.
"Maybe it's just a lookalike?" Neville said. "His eyes do look a little off."
Hermione just groaned, feeling a headache coming on. The other champions arrived behind them, Krum walking with some girl from Beauxbatons while Cedric trailed behind beside Cho.
The champions walked into the middle of the ballroom. They'd clearly been coached on what to do. They separated into a diamond, adopting the position for a ballroom dance. Hermione saw the Patil's play a lightning-fast game of rock paper scissors. When Parvati's rock was smothered by Padma's paper, she stepped away, allowing the Ravenclaw twin place her hands in Ron's and get ready to waltz.
The whole room waited with bated breath for them to begin. And the room was left waiting, because instead of a song starting, Dumbledore appeared on the musical stage wearing a Weird Sisters memorabilia hat in place of the pointed cap he typically wore.
"Greetings, everybody, and pardon this brief interruption," said the headmaster. "Merriment, dancing, and perhaps a some debauchery will commence soon enough—"
McGonagall, who had just arrived at the staff table, raucously cleared her throat.
"I am being informed that debauchery is a no-go, so we will have to keep that to a minimum." Dumbledore winked, a gesture those sitting behind him — including McGonagall — were blind to. "Regardless, it has fallen to me to make a short announcement. I urge you all to pay attention; especially you, champions of your schools."
In the middle of the room, the champions all stood a bit straighter, paying him their full attention. All of them bar Fleur. She still looked inebriated as she swayed on her feet, drunk on the scent that 'Harry' was giving off.
"In light of our first event, the Ministry has decided to hold the tournament's second event sooner than anticipated!" Dumbledore said happily. "And by soon, I mean this very night! I and a panel of my esteemed colleagues will be watching the champions particularly carefully with their dates. Sometimes, good manners and a strong bearing are as important to a promising wizard as any spell!" Dumbledore cleared his throat. "That line was written for me earlier, by someone who I daresay has been in one too few duels during their life…"
Seeing the angry looks he was getting off of the Ministry table, Dumbledore hastily wrapped up his speech.
"The point is, champions, that I certainly hope that you know how to dance," he summed it up concisely.
Behind him, the Weird Sisters strummed the first chord, music flooding the Great Hall.
The ball had begun.