The Next Dance

THE NEXT DANCE

BY AERIE22

CHAPTER 13

GINNY AGONISTES

Parvati still was sitting in front of the fire under the blanket with Harry.

The squashy couch directly in front of the fire was a seventh-year prerogative, but Alicia Spinnet saw Parvati shivering next to Harry on a corner couch and, with the approval of Fred and George and several other seventh years, led the couple to the couch by the fire.

Parvati hadn't been shivering from the cold. She had simply been reliving the horror of the Golem and the cold water of the lake. For once, one of Harry's adventures hadn't landed them in hospital wing. But Madame Pomfrey had forced them to drink a potion that warmed them and aided their resistance to illness from their ordeal.

Still, Parvati felt drained from the ordeal, even a day later. She had looped her arm through Harry's under the blanket for reassurance as the two simply sat there in front of the fire silently. She had dozed briefly, as had he. Surprisingly, no one had disturbed them.

It was now well after curfew. Parvati opened her eyes to realize she was resting her head against Harry's raven mop. She moved it away and Harry suddenly woke up and looked at her.

Parvati gave him a small, sad smile. "Is it always going to be like this?" she said, repeating the question she had asked hours before.

Harry turned and simply stared again at the dying fire. Parvati gave a small frown and sighed again. After looking at the low flames in the fireplace, she turned back to Harry and noticed a tear had fallen down his cheek.

"Harry?" she whispered.

But Harry remained silent, staring.

"Are you all right?"

Harry blinked and another tear followed the path of the first. "It's not fair," he whispered as if to himself.

Parvati let go of his arm and reached up from under the blanket to stroke Harry's hair. "What's not fair, Harry?" she whispered.

Harry's eyes never left the fire. "All of this."

"What?" she murmured.

Harry blinked again. "In my first year, I didn't know any better. It was all an adventure."

"Hmmm?"

Harry took a deep breath. "In my second year, I began to realize that life meant something. When Hermione was petrified ... could have been killed. Then Ginny was taken. Life was so precious--her life--that I did everything, anything, to protect her."

"Yes?"

Harry made a vague movement with his head, maybe a nod. "Then in third year, I thought we were all in danger because of me. I accepted that the Grim was meant for me. But it was Sirius, not a Grim. But things just happened and I found that I had to protect them. Hermione. Ron. Sirius. Remus. Buckbeak. Snape. Even Pettigrew. From death, even if it cost me my life."

Parvati was simply staring at Harry. She knew only bits and pieces of this story, and longed to hear more. But Harry needed to talk.

"Then, in fourth year, the tournament. Cedric. Voldemort." He sighed deeply.

Parvati continued to stroke his hair.

"It should have been me, not Cedric," he said softly. "I would have traded my life for his. It was my fight, not his. And he had everything to live for. I didn't have anything. Sure, Ron and Hermione would miss me. Oliver and the Quidditch team. Maybe Dumbledore ... McGonagall would be sad for a while. But I had to protect them. All of them."

"You're a hero, Harry," Parvati said quietly. "You're my hero."

Harry barely reacted. Instead, he took deep breath. "But this year..." He took another deep, ragged breath. "But now...I have a real family, the Strowbridges. I have a lot of new friends who care about me. And I have a nice girl who...who loves me."

Parvati leaned her head against his shoulder and sighed.

Harry closed his eyes, squeezing another tear out. "And still it won't stop."

Harry was quiet for a few moments. He now was breathing heavily. "I...I just want to live...a normal life. To have fun...to play Quidditch and kiss my girl. To drink warm butterbeer and laugh at the twins' pranks and argue with Ron...to tease Hermione and Ginny...and snuggle with you. I want..."

And suddenly, Harry's reserve gave way and he broke down.

Parvati found herself embracing Harry. Slowly, she maneuvered him until he was crying on her shoulder. He was a hero, she thought. But he was also a fifteen-year-old boy. The boy she loved. The boy she now knew she wanted to take care of.

But she was frightened. She realized that being in love, in love with this boy, meant more than just dating and dances and feeling the thrill of his presence and the pride of having him on her arm. It meant something deeper and, for a fifteen-year-old-girl, something entirely new and a little scary.

It meant sharing his pain, his grief. It meant accepting his weaknesses as well as his strengths. It meant facing what came, for bad as well as good.

It meant growing up.

Parvati sighed. She pressed her cheek on top of his head as she felt his crisis pass and sensed sleep once again come to him on the squashy couch in front of a dying fire. Slowly, sleep claimed her, as well.

* * *

Rita Skeeter was angry. There was no reason to be. Not Really. She knew her name wouldn't be on the piece. There was no way she could be given a byline in the Daily Prophet. After all, she was now on staff with Witch Weekly, and Bernie Castle would have killed her for freelancing with her old paper.

Plus, she got 12 Galleons for the piece, a Galleon per column inch of copy. Not that she didn't earn every knut. Cyrus Jordan got her in touch for a rare interview with old Bill Masterson, who gave her killer quotes and got her an interview with Amelia Bones. And their message had gotten across in the story: That Fudge was a blowhard and that, if anyone at the Ministry and at Hogwarts had failed in their duty, it was him.

And her anger wasn't so much that the story was so poorly written. Sure, it seemed to have been patched together. Too often that was the case when more than one reporter was contributing to a piece, especially at the Prophet, where copyediting seemed to be a lost art. She was surprised at how much of her material actually made it above the fold.

But what really bothered her was the byline. It read: 'By B.Z. Zorch, with bureaus.' It wasn't 'By the staff of the Daily Prophet,' which was often used when a story was a joint or group effort. No, Rita thought bitterly. She got the meat of the story. The hot quotes from Masterson and Bones. It was she got the copies of the Golem reports. She turned on the light and saw who scurried into the shadows. But Bozo got the credit. Bozo, who parroted the Ministry's party line, cribbing from Fudge's speech and getting little but an innocuous quote from Dumbledore.

Rita fumed. He had out-Slytherined her. And he wasn't even a Slytherin, as she had been. He was an innocuous wannabe from one of the small, no-name wizarding schools in the Midlands. And he had outmaneuvered her to get credit for the reporting.

Rita Skeeter had always prided herself in knowing what was going on. And she prided herself on knowing how to deal with the smart, the shrewd, the sneaky. After all, she had grown up with some of the toughest, most cunning people around.

During her time at Hogwarts, she had associated with students who would become some of the most powerful and cunning people in the wizarding world. In Slytherin, she was a year behind Lucius Malfoy, who she learned so much about cunning and stealth. And she watched Narcissa Black to learn the ways of pureblood society, their strengths and their weaknesses. In her year, she was a roommate in Slytherin of Amelia Bones, who was head girl along with the Gryffindor head boy, Frank Longbottom, two of the most powerful Hogwarts students in memory. They had taught her what ambition and the judicious use of power could achieve. She had a first-hand view of the closed world of the Brown clan as four rowdy Brown boys, two pair of brothers, dominated Hufflepuff social life, showing her how to socialize without giving away family and personal secrets. In Amos Diggory, she saw what a driving force intelligence could be as he seemed to rule Ravenclaw house by force of his personality and native wit.

And she learned from the younger students, as well. She reveled in the rivalry between the two black Gryffindors, Cyrus Jordan and Kingsley Shacklebolt, both a year behind her, where she learned how to play off one against another. She saw how the notorious Gryffindor Quartet of Potter, Black, Lupin and Pettigrew, two years her junior, seemed to be able to walk on water despite notorious rule breaking, demonstrating to her the value stealth, imagination and humor, as well as their ability to become animagi on their own, a secret she believed only she knew. And she saw the young brat Severus Snape blossom into brilliant, but potentially dangerous, young man, showing her how to maintain an outsized façade to cover up a quiet, nefarious intent.

She had learned lessons from them all. And it helped shape her into one of the most feared and fearless reporters in the wizarding world.

But her boss and mentor, Sadie Reider was right. She had gotten lazy. In the pas, she would never have allowed herself to be discovered as an illegal animagus not just by Cyrus Jordan, but by that Granger bint. She would never have allowed herself to be used by Fudge and his cronies as a shill. She would never have allowed Trent Thompson, editor of the Prophet, to direct her reporting to curry favor with the Ministry, the purebloods and the big advertisers, as he had for years. And she would never have become a writer of 'robe-ripper romances,' as Sadie had called her reporting, rather than do the work of a real journalist. And she would never have allowed a second-rater like Bozo to take credit for her own reporting.

No. Sadie was right. It was time to get back to work again. Her taste for intrigue and nose for news were sharpening again. Maybe it was time to be a journalist again.

She took one last look at her story in the Prophet. And now she smiled. They hadn't blue-penciled her damning material on Fudge. Maybe it's for the best Bozo would get the credit...and the grief, she thought. She gave an unconscious nod of her head. She now realized she had a purpose, a plan. And with the publication of the Prophet article, this plan had begun to be put in motion.

She sat down at her desk, and inked her heavy-duty eagle quill and pulled out a parchment.

Dear Minister Bones,

It's about time we got reacquainted with each other ...

* * *

Harry's sleep became fitful. In the past six months, he had suffered rarely from nightmares. Once moving in with the Strowbridges, he had only three or four. Perhaps it was the running every day, or all the yardwork he'd been doing during the summer that had relieved him of what had become a nearly nightly burden.

And he had even fewer nocturnal encounters with Voldemort. Yes, one or two, maybe, and duly reported eventually to Professor Dumbledore. But now even the Headmaster had begun to suspect Harry of holding back what Harry knew wasn't there.

But, as Harry rolled over in his sleep, a familiar feeling of dread came over him. And the pain.

Harry frowned, feeling the pain in his scar. He opened his eyes to see an unfamiliar plaster ceiling rose in off-white above him. There were decorative flourishes in the molding around the perimeter of the ceiling. But as Harry tried to turn, he felt something pulling around his head and shoulders. There was no pain, but it was uncomfortable. And it made him angry.

"Lucius! You're here. Prop me up!"

Harry could feel arms gently angle him up to a sitting position. He barely felt the pain at all. He turned to look at Lucius Malfoy. He could also see another Death Eater, but couldn't identify him.

Then he could. Jude Travers.

He stared angrily at Lucius Malfoy. "So, your spawn tried to act on his own, to deny me my rights. And with a Golem. Foolish boy."

Harry felt another stab of pain.

Lucius stared at him wide-eyed. "No, My Lord. I warned him. And a further warning was sent through the Knott boy. Draco knows better than to take such an action."

Harry could feel himself enter Lucius Malfoy's mind, but images flashed by so fast that he could only identify vague images of a frightened and compliant Draco. He also sensed doubts, but no evidence of a plot using Draco. He did sense even stronger doubts about Travers in Lucius' mind. Then he was simply looking at Lucius' face, seeing sweat suddenly matting the elder Malfoy's long graying light blond hair.

"If not your spawn, then who?" he demanded. Harry saw a furious Lucius glance toward Travers.

He turned and saw Travers looking at Lucius as if a silent communication had just taken place. Travers' hand came up swiftly to point his wand at him. He conjured up a quick shield but before he could react, he heard it.

"Avada Kedavra!"

He saw Travers engulfed in green light, then suddenly stagger back and fall over dead.

Harry felt an adrenaline surge and a sharp mixture of anger and fear, as the scar in his forehead throbbed. But the pain suddenly faded as he looked over at Lucius, who still held the killing wand in his hand.

"Lucius. Why didn't you use that on me?"

Lucius quickly holstered the wand. "No, My Lord. Never!"

He looked carefully at Lucius. The pureblood wizard now was sweating even more heavily. And he could see the fear.

He nodded. "Travers was always a foolish one. Impulsive. Quick to kill without a thought to the larger plan. But you, my dear Lucius, are much smarter. You always were. And you are loyal, aren't you."

Harry could feel a grim, knowing smile form on his face. "Well, my loyal servant. Now is the time to start showing how loyal you can be. It is time to increase the use of that fortune of yours to good purpose."

Harry, the throbbing in his scar subsiding considerably, took a deep breath.

Suddenly, Voldemort paused. "He is here," he whispered sharply.

Lucius blinked. "Who, My Lord?"

Voldemort stared off into space. "The boy. Potter."

Harry felt a deep chill as he realized that Voldemort had sensed his presence in the Dark Lord's mind. Harry suddenly felt dizzy, his thoughts going a mile a minute with no control over it. 'No!' he thought.

Harry found himself close to panic when the image of a burning, screaming Voldemort in the Forbidden Forest entered his mind unprompted. He concentrated on that image, listening to the whirring noise that became Voldemort's scream of anger and fear. His scar began to throb even more intensely. Then he heard a voice.

"I'm coming for you, boy."

Harry stiffened. Suddenly he screamed. "NO!! I'M COMING FOR YOU, TOM RIDDLE!!!"

* * *

"So, you were in his mind. You were Voldemort all that time?" Dumbledore looked at the exhausted boy. "What else do you remember, Harry? Anything?" he asked softly.

Harry sunk his chin on his chest. "No. That's all."

"So the Golem wasn't Voldemort's idea?"

Harry simply shook his head.

Dumbledore gave a puzzled frown. "But he suspects young Mister Malfoy."

Harry frowned in thought. "I wouldn't put it past him," he murmured. "But his father insisted it wasn't. I couldn't tell if he was telling the truth."

Dumbledore looked up in curiosity. "You couldn't tell? Or Voldemort couldn't?"

Harry looked up with raised eyebrows. "I'm...I'm not sure. But the Golem did attack Malfoy first." Harry lowered his head in thought. "Could it be that it turned on Malfoy from the start?"

Dumbledore sighed. "Frankly, I do not know. I tend to doubt it. A Golem does not turn on its maker easily or quickly, at least according to the literature. I do believe we must search up other avenues, Harry."

Harry nodded reluctantly.

Dumbledore pondered Harry's story as he sat in his office in a thick, quilted paisley dressing. "Did you get a sense of what was going on with Travers?"

Harry opened his tired eyes. "I think Lucius knew Travers was going to try to kill Voldemort. How else could he react in time to kill him?"

Dumbledore nodded. "And what was your feeling when it happened?"

Harry shrugged. "It was weird. It was as if I was there. I got scared that I was the target."

The Headmaster nodded and paused. "And what was your, or his, feelings toward Lucius after Travers was killed?"

"Lucius is not to be trusted. He must be kept in his place for now. But he is needed. He and his gold."

Dumbledore sighed. "Then he sensed you."

Harry nodded.

The old man settled back and closed his eyes. The two were silent in the Headmaster's office for some time. Finally, Dumbledore opened his eyes. "He was trying to 'read' you."

Harry shook his head in confusion.

"He now knows of the connection between your minds. I must think about this. But you said you felt dizzy, then remembered your most recent confrontation with him. And how did he react?"

Harry pursed his lips. "It was as if he was searching ... searching my mind. Then he was in pain. Or so angry it was causing him pain. I know it hurt me like anything."

Dumbledore smiled. "And you countered his threat with one of your own."

Harry nodded vaguely.

Dumbledore tilted his head in thought. "That means he never got control. Interesting."

Harry sat there silently.

Dumbledore looked back at Harry. "And what about the room?"

Harry looked at the Headmaster, confused, then shrugged. "There wasn't a lot of light. Lots of shadows. That's why I noticed the big round decoration, the rose on the ceiling. And all the curlicues around the sides of the ceiling...the molding. It was really fancy."

Dumbledore leaned forward, interested. "Was it marble?"

Harry frowned. "I don't think so. It looked like it had been painted over lots of times. Plus, it looked dusty."

Dumbledore leaned back again, a puzzled look on his face. "Most curious," he murmured.

Harry frowned. "Is that important?"

Dumbledore gave Harry a noncommittal look. "I cannot say for sure. Decorative molding is quite uncommon in the wizarding world. Particularly things like plaster ceiling roses. Carved stone or marble in plain or geometric patterns is more common among the rich, while basic plaster covering support beaming is more common among the less affluent of our world. Unfortunately, our arts generally do not extend to common domestic flourishes, as we are constantly rearranging, expending or contracting the size of rooms. Such actions would tend to throw off the symmetry of decorative molding. The expansion and contraction charms become much more complex when you are extending not just dimensions, but finely crafted pieces of artisanship such as you describe."

Harry looked at the Headmaster with a puzzled expression. "Can't you just charm the molding to extend as far as you like?"

Dumbledore gave a half shrug. "You can. But it is an entirely separate charm to be invoked. Easy enough with unadorned molding, I am sure, but with decorative molding, you have to imagine the pattern in all its intricacy, extending to correspond to with the extended dimensions of the room."

Harry looked down and made a face.

Dumbledore chuckled. "There are no limits to what you can do with magic when you put your mind to it. But there are some things that take a great deal of practice, patience, skill and concentration. More than most of those in the wizarding world can muster or wish to bother with."

Harry gave a vague nod. "So you think it was a Muggle house?"

Dumbledore gave a thoughtful look, then peered at Harry again. "You did mention about Voldemort having trouble turning his head. Was he in some sort of restraint?"

Harry frowned. "No. It just felt like his skin was pulling. Like there wasn't enough to cover him or something."

Dumbledore opened his eyes in recognition. "The burns are still healing." Then Dumbledore frowned and his face took on a sorrowful aspect. "He should have had the skin growing potion applied by now." The Headmaster closed his eyes and sighed. Then nodded sadly. "We've had reports that no one has seen Dr. Bradbury in a couple weeks. He had been at Voldemort's side constantly until the end of October. Since then..."

Harry lowered his head in sorrow. "He's dead, isn't he?"

Dumbledore took a deep breath. "Unfortunately, that is most likely, Harry." Dumbledore paused. "Now you understand the nature of our opponent. A good man who saved Voldemort's life most likely was repaid with death. And the nurse who did not escape, no doubt, paid the same price."

Harry simply stared into the fire. After a couple minutes he stirred. "What was he going to do with Lucius' gold?"

Dumbledore frowned in concentration. "We, shall see, Harry. We shall see,"

* * *

Harry grabbed Ron's shoulder in thanks. He felt he couldn't tell his best friend everything. But he did feel he could unburden about the fact of the dream. And Ron was sympathetic as ever. Harry gave his best friend a tired, grateful smile.

Ron gave him a crooked smile in return, but became uncharacteristically quiet.

The moments of silence stretched out to several minutes. Ron had given Harry a sympathetic ear but now Harry sensed his friend needed to talk.

"You okay, Mate?" Harry asked with concern.

Ron made a face and took a deep breath. "I'm going to ask her."

Harry tilted his head and waited.

Ron was quiet for a few more moments. "I'm...I'm going to ask Hermione to the Yule Ball."

Harry blinked in surprise. He had a odd twinge in his stomach. Then slowly he smiled. "It's a month away," he said softly.

Ron shifted uncomfortably. "We waited last year and look what happened. Krum jumped in," he said with a scowl.

Harry gave a quick nod. "Yeah," he said with a soft chuckle.

Ron started to nod, looking with an unfocused gaze toward the other side of the room.

Harry grabbed Ron's shoulder. "So ask her."

Ron started nodding again. "I think I will."

* * *

Parvati shrieked. Lavender squealed.

Hermione simply sat there, looking preoccupied. At least until her two roommates practically jumped on her in the excitement. "You and Ron! I knew it," Lavender shrieked in excitement.

Parvati suddenly jumped up. "Hey! Wait a minute! Hermione, you're the first of us to get invited to the Ball! Lavender, come on! It's time we went over to the boys' dorm to talk to a couple of young men about their plans."

Lavender jumped up. "Wait. Let me get my wand. We may need to use it on them," she said in laughter.

Lavender and Parvati both jumped up giggling and raced each other out of the dorm.

Hermione simply sat there and looked down at her hands wistfully. "But just as friends," she said quietly to herself.

* * *

Minerva McGonagall hadn't expected it when she became and animagus. The text books she had worked with were full of rapturous prose about the effects of transformations. But she was surprised, nonetheless.

She was surprised that, even in her human form, some of her feline instincts remained. She would occasionally feel things just beyond the realm of human senses. And, as she walked down the corridor on the seventh floor, she felt it.

She still was about ten paces from the unused classroom's closed doors when she felt the charms on the door.

McGonagall cocked an eyebrow. 'Students snogging,' she thought. But the charms were very strong. She frowned. She might be tempted to pass by and ignore it. But the strength of the charms gave her pause.

She cautiously approached the door to the classroom and listened. Nothing. A silencing charm. She carefully tried the door. Locked. McGonagall frowned.

McGonagall slipped her wand out and probed the locking charm. It was very strong. "Alohamora," she whispered, and felt the locking charm try to give. But it held. McGonagall raised her eyebrows in surprise and tried a stronger spell. The second time, she felt the lock finally give. She turned the handle of the door and, after a quick peek inside, slipped through the door.

As she passed the threshold, she felt like she was passing through a curtain. Then the sound. It was a wizarding wireless. Not loud. Then she glanced around. The desks were all arranged around the perimeter of the classroom, leaving a wide open space in the middle. She grunted softly. A new style classroom, with moveable desks rather than fixed benches.

Then she glanced at the front of the room. There, facing away from her and bent over the lectern seemingly discussing something, was Harry and Parvati. McGonagall quickly and silently assumed her animagus form and slipped unnoticed under a desk.

Parvati stood straight up. She was wearing her regular school robe, although it seemed to be charmed to be more form-fitting, and now was slit up the front and back just past her knees. Harry, on the other hand, was wearing his school robe open except for the waist clasp and charmed to fall only to mid-calf. Parvati turned to Harry with an exasperated look. "Tune it to WBC Three. You know whoever plays the Ball will be a popular group. We had the Weird Sisters last year. Who knows who it will be this year, but you know it won't hear it on Wobbly One."

Harry looked up and made a face. "I like Wizarding Broadcasting Channel One. They play a lot of slow stuff. Don't you like to slow dance?"

Parvati gave him a smile, which she quickly turned into a frown. "You know how to slow dance. But what if it's the Weird Sisters again? Or Dark Secrets? Or Ruby Rock? I don't intend to sit out three-quarters of the dances just because my date can't dance."

Harry sighed deeply. "I can waltz. I can do that box step. I can do that other dance you showed me."

Parvati laughed as a new, quick tempo song came on the wireless. She pulled Harry out into the middle of the classroom. "Come on. Jitterbug. Remember, hold your legs wide and swivel your hips as you step toward me."

Harry smiled and approached her, trying to follow her instructions. McGonagall watched the couple as Harry awkwardly tried to follow Parvati's instructions on the steps. It was only when they came together and Harry swung her around or spun her that he seemed more coordinated and in control.

Then Harry tried to grab her for to spin her but she approached for a swing instead. They managed to knock into each other, sending themselves tumbling to the floor in a heap, laughing.

"How can you be so graceful teaching me karate and be such a clod when I try to teach you to dance?" she exclaimed in a fit of giggles.

Harry flopped on his back. "Must be the teacher," he said chuckling.

Parvati snorted and poked him with the toe of her dancing pump. "More like a great teacher trying to teach a dunce."

Harry continued to chuckle. "You're not a dunce, sweetheart."

Parvati gave him a mock furious look. "I meant you!"

Harry suddenly rolled over quickly and grabbed her, tickling her mercilessly. Parvati tried to retaliate amid her squeals and laughter, tickling and pinching him as the two began rolling around the classroom.

McGonagall smiled to herself and was tempted to slip out of the room, but decided that her duty was to interrupt the couple before things went too far.

She resumed her human form with a whoosh. "Ahem."

The couple stopped and looked up to see a stern Professor McGonagall, her arms crossed, staring down at them. They quickly scrambled to their feet, Harry looking embarrassed and Parvati looking annoyed.

Parvati gave Harry a sidelong glance. "Just helping Harry learn to dance...so he doesn't sit on the sidelines with his date at the Yule Ball...whoever she might be."

Harry turned to stare at her. "But you..."

Parvati raised her chin. "I haven't been asked."

Harry gave her a wide-eyed look. He had teased her about who he would take to the Ball, but assumed that they would go together as a matter of course. "But Parvati...we are..." he babbled. Suddenly, he blushed. "Oh...Parvati, please go to the Yule Ball with me," he said in a rush.

Parvati turned back to Harry, smiling, both now oblivious to McGonagall. "Okay," she said in quiet triumph.

"Dancing lessons, Miss Patil, Mr. Potter?" McGonagall interjected.

Harry turned, blushing, and shrugged. Parvati simply gave a satisfied smile.

McGonagall gave the couple a barely concealed smile. "Rolling around on the floor? Not any dance I've ever seen."

"We slipped," Parvati said, holding her head up.

McGonagall gave a curt nod. "Well..." she said, glancing around the classroom. "I think we can find a more convenient, and more accessible place, for you to practice. There is a room next to the chapel on the first floor. Perhaps a professor could pop in on occasion to give you some pointers," she said in a dry tone that belied her amusement.

Harry and Parvati looked at each other in confusion and consternation.

McGonagall simply cleared her throat. "Very well. Until that can be arranged, carry on with your lesson." With that, McGonagall turned and swept out of the classroom.

* * *

Ginny sat in the common room. She and her best friends, Rachel Weiss and Moira Duffy were chatting casually about their DADA class. But Ginny kept noticing Dean pacing restlessly around the common room. It looked for all the world like he was trying to make up his mind or work up his courage about something.

Ginny snorted. Suddenly, the Yule Ball was on everybody's mind. It started when word filtered through the tower that Ron had asked Hermione to the Ball and she said yes. Then Lavender practically attacked Seamus in the common room over taking her. She insisted that, boyfriend or not, he had to ask her. Harry and Parvati were a given, even though he had teased her a bit about maybe asking one of his other 'loves,' like Fleur or...Pansy. Parvati told everyone that he finally gave in and asked her ... in front of McGonagall, no less.

Now all people could talk about was the Ball. Ginny frowned. She hadn't even had a date all term. Who was going to want to take her? She frowned in a sulk, missing several questions from Rachel and Moira before Rachel finally grabbed her shoulder.

"Where have you been Gin?" Rachel asked with interest.

Ginny frowned. "Certainly not at the Yule Ball," she muttered.

Rachel blushed. "Don't worry. It's early. You've got a whole month."

Ginny made a face. "What about you?"

Rachel blushed even more deeply. "Tony asked me yesterday," she whispered about her boyfriend, Tony Goldstein.

Ginny smiled and gave her best friend a hug. "Not that there was any doubt," she said with a smile.

The normally reticent Rachel became uncharacteristically giggly.

Ginny turned to Moira. "What about you, Moira? Any prospects."

Moira chuckled. "Neville asked right after Seamus did. I guess he felt that, with all the other guys doing it, he should as well."

Ginny reached over and grabbed her other best friend's arm. "You're so lucky. He's sweet," Ginny said with a smile. But her smiles were getting tougher to maintain.

Finally, she turned to watch Dean. He was still acting like a caged tiger. Then Seamus came through the portrait hole and grabbed Dean, pulling him to a nearby couch where the Irish boy flopped down. Dean simply sat down with an anxious look on his face.

Ginny couldn't quite hear everything they were saying, but she did hear mention of the Yule Ball and her radar went up immediately.

Dean leaned forward in his seat, almost as if he had a stomach ache.

Seamus leaned back and frowned. Ginny leaned forward as if reading her text, but listened intently to the two boys just a few feet away.

Seamus snorted. "Why not?" he said in a low voice. "Look, you've liked her forever. You wanted to ask her to last year's Ball. And you missed out. So just do it. It's early. Maybe no one has asked her yet."

Dean simply shook his head sadly. "But what would she see in me? And Weasley would have a fit."

Ginny's eyes widened. Could it be that Dean wanted to ask her to the Ball? It had to be. But then she bristled. Ron had been such a prat over her dating. If her stupid brother had warned Dean off or tried to mess this up, she would kill him.

Seamus shook his head. "Screw him. You're asking her out, not him. And if he doesn't like it, tough."

Ginny's eyes widened. Was Dean really actually working up his courage to ask her to the Ball? Suddenly, she felt a surge of excitement. Ginny had always thought Dean as the quietest, but also the most poetic and artistic of the fifth-year Gryffindors. And he was a lot nicer than Seamus and Ron, and a lot more fun than Neville. And he had a sense of humor, unlike some of the other boys around.

And he was nice looking. He was dark, though not as dark as Lee Jordan. Dean was one of the tallest boys at Hogwarts. And he had dreamy wide-set eyes with the longest lashes Ginny had ever seen on a boy.

Ginny leaned forward even more.

Seamus leaned forward next to his friend. "Look, Dean. This is probably going to be your last chance. If you don't ask her, you'll always wonder if it might have worked out. You'll always think that you let that one chance slip through your fingers. So get up and ask her."

Dean was breathing deeply. He slowly raised his head and looked around the room with a frown. Then his eyes stopped at Ginny, who had looked up when the boys' conversation stopped.

Dean gave her a warm smile and got up.

Ginny's heart started beating rapidly and gave Dean her best smile.

Dean smiled shyly back as he took the few steps to their table.

He casually leaned over and, giving another quick look around the common room, returned his gaze to her.

Ginny was practically squirming in excitement when Dean finally spoke.

"Ginny, do you know where Angelina is? She's not on duty in the Head Girls' office so I thought she'd be here?"

Ginny's eyes fluttered. "Angelina?" she asked in a choking voice.

Dean gave a nervous nod. "Uh, I need to ask her something."

Ginny just sat there, looking at him with her mouth open.

Then Dean stiffened and stood up straight. "I've got to go," he whispered.

Ginny watched in shock as Dean walked over to Angelina, who had just come down from the girls' dorms.

Ginny watched as a nervous Dean stopped Angelina and they chatted for a couple moments. Then she saw Dean's face fall. Angelina reached out and touched his shoulder and gave him a light kiss on the cheek. Dean nodded and gave a weak smile. Then the two turned, Angelina heading to the entrance of the common room and Dean back to Seamus.

Dean simply stood there. "She said no," he said in a quiet, cracking voice. "She's still seeing George."

Seamus snorted. "Weasley," he said in a dismissive voice, then looked up at his friend. Seamus' face went through a variety of looks. At one point, it almost looked like he was going to try to say something funny to break the tension. But finally, he simply stood up and took Dean by the arm and walked him up to the boys' dorms.

Ginny lowered her head onto her arms and sighed. She felt bad for Dean. But she felt bad for herself, as well.

* * *

Draco lay on his bed reading. But he felt someone watching him. He looked up to see Pansy Parkinson in the doorway.

"Well, are you going to invite me in?" she said with arched eyebrows.

Draco sighed and reached over to his nightstand to grab his wand. He muttered a spell and the invisible barrier to the dorm was removed.

Pansy entered and sat in the desk chair next to Draco, who remained on his back in the bed, hands now behind his head, staring at the ceiling.

Pansy glanced at Draco. "Cronin Montague asked me to the Yule Ball."

Draco snorted. "Have fun," he drawled.

Pansy frowned. "I told him I was going with you."

Draco barely reacted.

Pansy glared at Draco. "Are you going to ask me?"

"Not going to wait for Potter?" he muttered sarcastically.

Pansy narrowed her eyes. "He's an arrogant bastard," she hissed. "But if he asked, I would have said yes."

Draco gave her a disgusted look.

Pansy sneered back. "You know why?"

Draco looked away.

Pansy leaned forward trying to catch Draco's eye. "At least he's a man. He doesn't sit in his room in a sulk whenever he isn't in class. He knows how to treat his woman, even if she is a slutty wog. And he isn't afraid."

Draco's head snapped around to give Pansy a furious look. "I'm not afraid," he barked.

Pansy again narrowed her eyes. "No?"

Draco leaned back on his bed and stared at the ceiling. "What do you care, anyway?"

Pansy leaned back in her chair, staring off into space. Finally, she sighed. "I plan to have children. Lots of children. And I don't want them worrying where they are going to live, or what's for supper. And they're not going to have to bow and scrape for their supper, like Blaise Zabini's family does. Like Aubrey Blythe's family does. Like some bloody shopkeeper. And I won't have my children's father hiding away in the house, afraid of his own shadow."

Draco grunted.

Pansy turned to face him. "So?"

Draco shifted his eyes toward her. "So what?"

"So, are you going to be a man?"

"And how do I do that," he said with a half-hearted sneer.

Pansy looked down her nose at him. "You can start by asking me to the Yule Ball. It will show everyone we are still here. To let them know we are still the class of Slytherin House."

Draco leaned back again and sighed. "If you want..."

Pansy slowly leaned forward and gave him a tender kiss.

* * *

Harry shook his head violently, sweat flying off in all directions.

"Here now," Ron exclaimed. "Let's not pretend we're Snuffles, eh?"

Harry looked up and smiled at his friend. He shook off his practice helmet and hooked it on the belt of his Quidditch uniform. "So, I've noticed how you've been working with the rest of the reserves on set plays," Harry said with a small smile.

Ron shrugged as they two made their way toward the locker room for their post-practice showers.

"How are they doing?" Harry asked casually.

Ron seemed to slow down as he pondered. "Well, the firsties are enthusiastic and seem to be picking up things in a hurry. Bowen seems to understand, but she's a little slow to react. And she's got to work on her grip. Theo needs a lot of work in goal." He suddenly was quiet.

Harry stopped and peered at his friend. "And Seve?"

Ron stopped and frowned. "He's okay...for an arrogant git."

Harry frowned back and gave Ron a stare. "You know we've been watching the reserves," he said quietly.

Ron gave Harry a sidelong glance. "Who?"

Harry cocked an eyebrow. "Me. Angelina. Katie and Alicia, too. Whenever we get the chance."

Ron made a face. "Angelina has been helping us," he said quietly. "You, too, I suppose."

Harry nodded thoughtfully. "Young Seve seems to be making good progress. Maybe not on par with you, but he'll be ready when the time comes."

Ron's face continued to contort in a series of concerned expressions. "Not as good as me," he said softly.

Harry gave a small smile. "No. Anyway, he's left-handed, making him a natural for left wing, to take Alicia's place. You're a natural center. Strong and powerful and knowing what you're about. Seeing the whole pitch and directing the attack."

Ron gave a curt nod of acknowledgement.

Harry's smile broadened. "So I've been talking with Angelina. We thought maybe you should take on some added responsibilities."

Ron's head jerked in Harry's direction, his eyes wide. "What?"

Harry simply shrugged. "Sort of like Captain of the reserves. Work with them on plays and drills. Make sure they are in shape and following instructions. Working with Theo on directing the defense. That sort of stuff. Being in charge of the reserves."

Ron blinked rapidly, his cheeks turning pink. "Really?" he gasped.

Harry gave a shrug. "Sure. You know Quidditch better than just about any of us. You've already been teaching them plays and formations. Why not?"

Ron was now beaming. "Yeah," he said in a faraway voice. "I could show them a million things."

Harry cleared his throat. "But there is something," he said quietly.

Ron slowly turned his head to look at Harry.

Harry pursed his lips in thought. "Well, you've been riding Velazquez quite a bit. He's taken it all in stride, but it isn't right."

Ron grunted. "Well, he is an arrogant git."

Harry frowned again. "He is not. He is enthusiastic and plays well. And when has he ever given any of us any lip? He listens to you all the time. Does he give you any problems?"

Ron frowned and lowered his head. "Well...he questions some of the plays I tell him about, that I want to practice."

Harry tilted his head in curiosity. "He doesn't want to try them?"

Ron shifted in place for a moment. "Not exactly. It's more like...well, he asks about positioning and why the play should work and stuff."

Harry stared intently at Ron. "In other words, he's asking exactly what a good Quidditch player should before trying something new."

Ron continue to shuffle nervously under Harry's scrutiny. "Regina never does that."

Harry paused. "Maybe she should. Maybe you should encourage her to ask questions. To clarify things. To be more like Velazquez."

Ron rolled his eyes. "Please. One 'Snape' on the team is enough."

Harry shook his head. "I wish you would stop calling him that. You know he hates it, even though he treats it like a joke."

Ron snorted. "Severino. Severus. Same difference. A couple of gits."

Harry grabbed Ron. "What's your problem? He seems okay to me."

Ron turned to face Harry with an angry look. "I don't like some of the things he says to Ginny. Did you hear what he said to her after the last practice?"

Harry shrugged, a look of concern on his face.

Ron gave a disgusted look. "He offered to go to the girls' showers and scrub her back!"

Harry burst out laughing. "I'm shocked!" he exclaimed. "Where could he get such ideas...or did he hear you say the same thing to Katie Bell a couple weeks ago."

Ron's face turned a bright red. "I was...it was just a joke. George told me to say that to get a rise out of Fred."

Harry gave a solemn nod. "Mmmm hmmm. Clearly much different from Velazquez getting a rise out of you."

Ron gave Harry a confused, then angry look. "No. This is different. I don't like the way he talks to Ginny. She's my sister and deserves to be treated like a lady."

Harry grinned at the annoyed redhead. "I seem to recall Ginny had an interesting response when Seve asked to scrub her back."

Ron scowled.

Harry chuckled. "I believe she invited him to do so provided he come dressed appropriately for the showers."

Ron made a rude noise. "She was just kidding. But he wasn't," he grumbled.

Harry smirked at Ron. "How could you tell? Was it because he was blushing after the exchange, and she wasn't?"

Ron grunted. "I still don't like him," he muttered as the two friends turned and resumed their walk to the locker rooms.

* * *

Severino Velazquez was thin and wiry, and was giving Ginny his best impression of a smoldering look. At age 14, he was just beginning to develop an effective one. And Ginny had noticed.

Velazquez wasn't her first choice for a boyfriend. Of course, that would be Harry. But the more she watched Seve, the better he looked. He wasn't as nice looking as Colin, but he also wasn't as short or goofy. He wasn't as sweet and thoughtful as Neville, but he had an intensity that was attractive and, yes, sexy. And he, more than any of the other boys she knew, paid attention to her.

She smiled at the thought. He was okay looking and actually quite nice and Ginny was hoping...well, maybe.

He smiled at her and made his way over to the entrance of the locker rooms, that little wedge that separated the boys and girls' shower areas. He was freshly scrubbed from his shower after practice and his normally wavy hair was askew. But Ginny didn't mind. She preferred it that way.

"Ah, my favorite red-haired teammate," he said in a slightly accented purr. "My little Rosalita."

Ginny smirked. "Who is Little Rosalita? Can't be me. I'm Ginny and I do believe I am not a little anything. I'm at least as tall as you," she said, trying hard not to chuckle at Seve's overly earnest attempts to woo her. But she was also excited by the attention.

Velazquez finally started giggling at himself.

Suddenly, she saw he was a little nervous, something quite out of character for him. And she smiled. Maybe he was going to ask her to the Ball after all.

He casually approached her, and she leaned back against the wall, giving him a come-hither smile.

"So, my favorite Ginny. Are you going to the Yule Ball?"

She smiled a little more broadly and cocked her eyebrow. "It depends on who asks me," she said in a low voice.

Seve was now right next to her. He put on hand up against the wall next to her and leaned toward her with a smile. "Well, maybe..."

He never got a chance to finish as he felt a strong pair of hands grab his robe from behind and yank him back, causing him to tumble awkwardly in a heap.

"You stay away from my sister!" Ron said harshly.

Velazquez looked up furiously at a sweaty Ron who had just arrived in the locker room area after his chat with Harry. Harry suddenly grabbed Ron and backed him against the wall. But Ron squirmed away and pointed at the young chaser. "You keep your distance!"

"RON!!!" Ginny shouted.

Suddenly, most of the members of the Gryffindor team ran out of their respective locker areas to see what the commotion was about.

Velazquez continued to look up at Ron with a furious expression. "I don't need this crap!" he shouted.

By now, Ginny was being restrained by Katie and Angelina from pummeling Ron, while Harry had a hold of Ron.

Velazquez simply got up and held his head high, glaring at Ron, then glancing angrily at Ginny. "So be it," he muttered in Ginny's direction. As he turned to leave the locker room area, he noticed Regina Bowen looking at him with concern. He gave her a knowing smile. "Ah, fair Regina. Would you do me the honor of accompanying me to the Yule Ball?"

Regina's eyes went wide. "Really?" she gasped.

Velazquez suddenly tilted his head and looked at her, seeing the surprise and delight on her face. And his smile, which seemed almost predatory, quickly warmed. "Yes, Regina. I would love for you to go with me."

Regina's face split into a wide grin. "Sure. I'd love to go with you."

Seve looked at her carefully. She was pretty. Perhaps not as pretty as Ginny. And she was quiet, contrasting with the lively Ginny. But she was sweet. Seve now smiled broadly at Regina. They would have fun together. And he wouldn't have to constantly look over his shoulder for Ron.

'To hell with Ginny,' Seve thought as he held out his arm to Regina, who took it with a giggle. The couple paraded out of the locker area on their way back to the castle.

Ron watched Velazquez and Bowen walk away with a smug feeling. At least Seve wouldn't be bothering Ginny anymore, he thought. So preoccupied was Ron that he never saw Ginny's fist coming.

"You bastard," Ginny hissed through her tears as Ron doubled over from her fist to his midsection. Ron felt Ginny grab two fists full of his hair as she leaped on top of him. "That was supposed to be me going to the Ball with him," she hissed in Ron's ear as she felt arms grab her and pull her off her brother. "I'll get you, Ron. I'll get you for this!" she screamed, as Katie and Angelina hauled her back to the girls' section of the locker rooms.

Harry grabbed his best friend and hoisted him back to his feet, perhaps a little more roughly than would be expected. "Leave her alone," he whispered to Ron. "You've got to learn to leave her alone."

Ron leaned against the wall to catch his breath. "She's...my sister."

"Shut up, you stupid arse," Ron heard Fred mutter angrily.

Ron looked up to see identical furious faces as his brothers turned and left.

Ron turned to his friend. "Harry?"

Harry gave Ron a sorrowful look. "I'd stay out of Ginny's way for a while," he said sadly.

Ron lowered his head. "I was just trying to...well...protect her. How long?"

Harry gave a rueful chuckle. "How about until after she's married."

* * *

Harry looked over at the stacks of old trunks and gave a guilty shiver. He still had Richard Burton's trunk. He had managed to learn the spell to shrink it on a more-or-less permanent basis and hide it in his own trunk for several weeks. Then he asked Moody about the ex-Aurors's trunk.

Moody frowned, remembering of how he had been trapped under a powerful enchantment in one of his trunk's compartments for nearly the entire school year last year.

But that trunk had made a great impression on Harry. It had seven keyholes, each opening up a different full-sized trunk within the same basic trunk frame. It was like having seven trunks in the space of one.

Moody nodded. He pointed out that there was a place in Hogsmeade where Harry might one. So during the last Hogsmeade weekend, Harry managed to talk the owner of Oddities, a second-hand store, to part with the only one available, an old, used trunk, for eighteen Galleons. Ron gasped at the price and Parvati gave Harry a skeptical look, but Hermione simply nodded knowingly. "I could use one of them, myself," she told Harry.

So now Richard Burton's trunk, slightly shrunk, resided as trunk No. 4 in his new multi-trunk.

But Harry couldn't help but feel guilty. He hadn't really ever stolen anything before. Well, he did remember getting caught trying to steal a spoonful of ice cream from the ice box at the Dursleys when he was seven, and got a sound thrashing with the belt and the permanent reputation as a thief from his aunt and uncle. After all, he wasn't allowed desserts.

All those memories came flooding back whenever he looked at the trunk or came to Fluffy's room on the third floor. He took a deep breath. Maybe, now that the Aurors were gone after the destruction of the Golem and the prefect patrols had been cut back to normal hours, he could return the trunk without fear of getting caught. But not yet, There was just too much to learn from Burton's notebooks.

He resumed his pacing as he waited for the young students to arrive. He didn't know how many would show up. After all, last week, there had been eleven Hufflepuffs, eight Ravenclaws and four Slytherins--Gina Zabini and the three roommates she hung out with--along with a dozen or so of his own Gryffindors. And, after the success he had with the fifth years, he wouldn't be surprised if it was a big crowd. He watched Hermione and Ron set up the leather-coated testing board and sighed. Then he looked up to see Ernie Macmillan walk in and, after looking around nervously, approach him. "Hey, Harry," he said softly.

Harry nodded. Ernie was looking haggard. He should, Harry thought.

Ernie gave a small, uncertain smile. "I didn't know if you still wanted me to help."

Harry sighed. "Sure. I could use all the help I can get."

Ernie nodded curtly. "Thanks," he said quietly, and went to turn away. Then he turned back. "I know I screwed up, okay. I ..." Then he turned away again and walked over to Hermione and Ron to see what else needed to be done to set up.

Parvati glided up next to Harry. "What was that?" she whispered harshly.

Harry shrugged. "He said he screwed up."

Parvati snorted. "The man is always the last to realize it. Especially when it's his fault."

Harry blinked, but didn't have time to think about it as the Ravenclaw contingent came in, led by Kevin Entwhistle and Mandy Brocklehurst.

"What?" Harry said wide-eyed.

Entwhistle gave him a crooked smile. "We're all here."

"All?" Parvati said in shock.

Mandy nodded. "Well, we've got one of the third-year girls in the hospital wing, but otherwise, we're all here. First through fourth years."

Harry continued to stare. There were 41 Ravenclaws in Fluffy's room, including Kevin and Mandy. Mandy pulled Harry aside and gave him a smile. "There's some sixth and seventh years who were put out that they weren't invited."

Harry looked startled. "But why...all of them?" he said sweeping his hand around the room.

Mandy gave a half shrug. "Well, they figure it will help them with the studies and grades...and they heard it's fun."

As the young Ravenclaws were milling around, they noticed young students from the other houses peer in and enter. Harry watched as some simply nodded to each other, while others greeted each other warmly, or, in some of the younger boys' cases, bump up against each other playfully.

He also discovered there were about 15 Slytherins. Most clustered together, but three or four greeted classmates from other houses cautiously. Harry sighed. This was going to be impossible.

Fluffy's room was big. But there were now 102 young students there and only Harry, Parvati, Ron, Kevin, Mandy, Morag, Ernie, an annoyed Hannah, Amy Hattan and Luna Lovegood to supervise.

Once again, Harry decided to start with shielding spells, but had to explain to the younger students the Rictusempra spell to be used as the offensive spell to guard against. He sighed and cautioned them all against using the charms and hexes against each other if they wished to continue with the lessons.

Finally, he decided to start off with a demonstration. He looked around the room and smiled.

"Luna?"

Luna Lovegood had cornered Harry after the first meeting with the young people, and had numerous suggestions about teaching the younger students about shields. Harry had to smile at her enthusiasm.

"Want to help demonstrate some shielding charms we talked about?"

Luna smiled broadly and nodded enthusiastically, nearly dislodging her wand which was poked into her hair behind her right ear.

Harry gave her a broad smile in return. "Rictusempra? Use whatever you like to block it."

Again, Luna nodded vigorously and removed her wand.

Harry made sure he had everyone's attention as he positioned Luna down at the end of the large room. He turned to the large group of wide-eyed young students. "There are any number of ways to shield yourself from a curse or a spell. Last week, for those of you who were here, we began demonstrating the basic shield charm. But remember, the easiest and most effective way to avoid being cursed is to avoid the confrontation that would lead to getting yourself cursed. If necessary, to run away from a stronger opponent. Got that?"

There were nods from most of the students, but some of the boys seemed to frown or scowl defiantly.

Harry rolled his eyes at the posturing of the pre-teen and young teen boys.

"Okay, as I said, there are all kinds of shield spells," Harry said to the group. "Luna here is going to show some ways to protect yourself.

He turned to Luna, who was about 30 feet away. He pulled out his wand and held it in front of him and got ready to cast the spell. He noted that Luna was holding her wand casually in front of her.

"Aren't you doing it wrong?" came a voice from the crowd.

Harry blinked and turned. "How is it wrong?" he said with a puzzled look.

A third-year boy, likely a Slytherin considering he was in with a group of third-year Slytherin girls including Gina Zabini, stepped forward. He looked nervously around. "Uhhh...I was taught that you're supposed to hold your wand high like this." The boy then turned sideways and held his wand high over his head in an elaborately stylized dueling pose.

Harry gave a small smile and shook his head. "That's okay for formal competitive duels. But we are talking about defending yourself against opponents who don't play by the rules," he said indulgently. "I know of one professor here who has practiced the 'quick draw' of the wand."

The Slytherin boy's eyes grew wide. "What's that?"

Harry pocketed his wand. Then, in a single motion drew out his wand in a motion almost as quick as Snape and quietly uttered a charm. The Slytherin boy's hair suddenly began growing at a rapid rate, obscuring his eyes.

Many of the students burst into laughter. After Harry uttered the Finite Incantatum spell, and the boy's hair returned to normal, even he gave an amazed smile.

Harry cast his gaze around the group. "That is something you all can practice on your own. Simply concentrate on how quickly you can draw your wand," he said with a smile. He noted with amusement several of the young Ravenclaws pull out portable slates and mark his advice down.

Smiling, he turned back to Luna. "Are you ready?"

Once again, Luna smiled and nodded.

Harry once again pulled out his wand. "Rictusempra," he cried.

The spell wasn't even out of his mouth when suddenly a group of trunks from the corner of the room appeared in front of Luna. He saw his spell splash harmlessly in a shower of pale lavender against the third trunk in the stack.

Harry blinked and blushed. He hadn't expected this response to his spell, and the trunks reminded him of his own guilt about 'borrowing' Richard Burton's trunk. He shook his head sadly and turned to Luna, who now was peering with a smile around the stack of trunks, raising her eyebrows. Then he turned back to the younger students, as well as some of the older ones who were helping Harry teach. Ernie, Ron, Hannah and Morag were staring in surprise. Kevin Entwhistle was looking thoughtful. Hermione and Mandy Brocklehurst were looking annoyed. But Parvati and Amy Hattan were laughing uproariously.

Harry cleared his throat and the students slowly turned their attention back to him. "That's one way to shield against a curse. It's a little advanced for most of you. But it does show that sometimes, the best defense against a curse is to let something else take the brunt of it."

Harry looked back at Luna, then at the stack of trunks. He had never thought of using Charms or Transfiguration in defense. Maybe it was time to pay a little more attention in those classes, he thought.

Somehow, the lessons went over well, and at the end of the second hour, most students were giggling or laughing not just from the Rictusempra spells, but from the fun they had.

At the end, Harry slumped against Parvati, tired. But this time, it was a 'good' tired.

* * *

Professor McGonagall frowned and peered over her glasses. "I will consult with the headmaster, but I do not see any grave difficulties."

Harry gave a nervous smile, then nodded. "Thank you, professor."

* * *

The aged Headmaster frowned. "I think this is a very bad idea, Minerva."

McGonagall scowled. "And why not, Albus?"

Dumbledore frowned. "First of all, there are security concerns. Currently, there are only seven of us who know where Harry lives."

McGonagall snorted. "Not counting the Weasleys and Miss Granger."

Dumbledore frowned. "Yes, they do, I suppose."

McGonagall continued to scowl. "Of course they do. The four Weasley children and Hermione were all in that automobile when he was picked up during the summer."

Dumbledore templed his fingers in front of his face. "Troubling," he said absently.

McGonagall cleared her throat. "There never seemed to be a problem with their knowing where he lived when he was with those horrid people, the Dursleys" she said sharply.

Dumbledore shifted with a far-away look in his eyes. "They were his friends. And Arthur and Molly could be trusted."

McGonagall gave the Headmaster a severe look. "And Miss Patil is not his friend?"

Dumbledore sighed. "It would have been so much easier had he taken up with Miss Granger. She is quite the mature and level-headed young witch. Miss Patil is so...impetuous."

McGonagall glared at Dumbledore. "And you would control the dictates of Mr. Potter's heart?"

The Headmaster frowned.

McGonagall stared at him. "I will grant you, Miss Patil is not as studious as Miss Granger. I, too, think that Harry and Hermione would be a better match. But he has come out of his shell since he has been seeing Parvati, something I don't know would have happened with Hermione. He has grown in confidence and shown evidence of leadership we have not seen in the past. In many ways, I think Miss Patil has been good for him. Better, I think, than you credit her with."

Dumbledore frowned again. "But is all this independence such a good thing? We need him. What we don't need is him becoming difficult at inopportune times."

McGonagall narrowed her eyes. "Perhaps if we took a more active interest in him early on in his life, we would not be faced with this problem...of trust."

The Headmaster closed his eyes in sorrow. "I believed it to be the wisest course at the time. I never thought he would be harmed...would suffer. I had his best interests in mind."

McGonagall simply nodded, a stern look on her face.

Dumbledore sighed and looked down pensively. "What would you suggest, Minerva?"

McGonagall gave a curt nod. "That we allow him to spend the Christmas holidays as he requested. He has been invited to spend four days at the Patils. Let him. Then allow Harry and Parvati spend four days with the Strowbridges. Then she will return to spend the rest of her holiday at her home, as will he at his home," she said, emphasizing the last two words.

Dumbledore closed his eyes and frowned. "I dislike it. If he insists, arrangements can be made, I suppose. However, I do wish he would agree to stay with a wizarding family, and spend Christmas here."

McGonagall scowled once more. "He will be safe. Miss Patil's brother will be there. He is an Auror and can handle security and the Patils proved when they were here to be most competent in their defensive skills. And once at Mr. Potter's foster parents, he will be safe. But even more important, he will be happy. It's the least we owe him."

Dumbledore nodded, and McGonagall rose and left.

* * *

"Hey Black! Buy you a firewhiskey?"

Sirius looked up from the drink he had been nursing for the past 20 minutes. He turned a shaggy head and looked with gimlet eyes at the wizard addressing him. "Schmoo?"

Samuel 'Schmoo' Baker was just another of the lowlifes that Sirius and Shane Patil kept running across in their travels from dive to dive in Knockturn Alley while spying for the Order. Sirius had actually seen a drunken Schmoo get banned from The Empty Vessel, another Knockturn Alley dive, for fighting and brandishing his wand a couple weeks before. All the better for Schmoo as he seemed to owe half the people at that bar half a year's pay, Sirius thought.

Sirius appeared to be alone here in the Tabula Rasa bar, having not worked with Shane since his lecture from Shane's sister Lakshmi. And now Schmoo was suddenly glad-handing. 'Shane would have loved this,' Sirius thought as he cocked an eyebrow at the scruffy young wizard. "You buying for a change?"

Schmoo frowned, then smiled knowingly. "I owe you a couple."

Sirius snorted. "Couple dozen is more like it," he said with a wry grin.

Schmoo suddenly slapped Sirius on the back and grinned. "Those days are over," he said in a low, conspiratorial voice. "I've got a new gig."

Sirius gave the painfully thin, dark-haired wizard a skeptical look. Then he frowned. "Selling frogs?" he whispered.

Schmoo slowly shook his head. "No drugs, man. I'm in with powerful people now."

Sirius narrowed his eyes suspiciously, and took a quick look around the bar. He leaned forward to whisper to the young man. "You're not selling out to the Ministry. To the bloody Aurors, are you?"

Schmoo stepped back and shook his head rapidly. "Never," he said quietly, at least for him. "I'd never sell out to the Red Robes."

Sirius stared intently at Schmoo. "What?"

Schmoo looked back and forth down the bar to make sure no one was in earshot. All he saw was a scruffy looking wizard in a worn robe sitting at the end of the bar. He then leaned forward toward Sirius. "You got a dark past, I know," he said.

Sirius ignored the vague smell of firewhiskey on Schmoo's breath. He shrugged vaguely.

Schmoo merely nodded. "I know. I also know how you can pick up some steady galleons. Good gold, not knuts."

Sirius kept a suspicious mask on his face, anxious to hear more. "I'm listening."

Schmoo again looked around the bar, then leaned forward again. "People with interesting appetites are looking for some help."

It was all Sirius could do to keep impassive. 'Interesting Appetites' was underworld code for Death Eaters. He lowered his head. "I'm my own man. Me and Black Sean got a few things going. But I'm listening."

Schmoo cleared his throat. "They're looking for some help. A little sweetener up front. They give fifty Galleons to start, then fifty a month. Like a retainer, the guy says. Plus, bonuses for when you're called. But the real money is when you get the mark, the guy told me. Interested?"

Sirius frowned. "Chump change," he muttered, hoping Schmoo would continue his sales pitch.

"Plus, a recruitment bonus," Schmoo whispered. "That's where you make your money. That and any booty from raids."

Sirius frowned and made like he was deep in thought. "Don't know. Who's the guy? The guy who told you all this?"

Schmoo frowned. "Can't tell you."

Sirius gave Schmoo a look. "Worried about the recruitment bonus?"

Schmoo frowned and looked embarrassed, or at least as embarrassed as he got. "It's a hundred Galleons," he whispered.

Sirius looked down and pondered. "You get it if you're the one who introduces me to the guy, right?"

Schmoo frowned. "I suppose. Maybe. I'll have to ask."

Sirius took a deep breath. "I still think it's chump change, but I'm willing to listen." Sirius suddenly straightened out and smiled. "What about that firewhiskey?"

* * *

The scruffy looking man in the worn robes at the end of the bar sat there looking sullen. But he listened. And he listened carefully. Nobody approached him. He had already brusquely rebuffed one of the ladies of the night who inhabited the bar, as well as a regular hanger-on looking to mooch a drink. After that, the scruffy man was basically left alone.

He watched Sirius Black leave the bar. But still he sat there, listening. He continued to listen, hearing some interesting things as Schmoo made the rounds of the bar. Schmoo was not cut out to be an operator. He tried to talk softly, even whispering. But the scruffy man heard.

Finally, 20 minutes after Sirius Black left the bar, the scruffy man finished off his ale and threw a couple sickles on the bar.

Then, grabbing his cloak, Remus Lupin left the bar to join his long-time friend at No. 12 Grimmauld Place.