The Man Who Knew Almost Nothing

Chapter Nineteen

Ballroom blitz

The days became rather routine after that: magic lessons in the morning, writing in the afternoon, and dancing in the evening. Harry counted down the days on his calendar in anticipation of the ball. He had never looked forward to such events before. In fact he had had only grudgingly tolerated them since he was a teenager. The celebration last year had been a chance to leave the hospital wing at Hogwarts for the first time and hardly more than that, despite any dancing he may have done. This year was different. This year he was going to a ball with the man he loved, not to mention Sirius and Remus who were going on a very tentative date.

The evening of the ball, after Harry and Gilderoy had decked themselves out in their fine formal dress robes, Sirius took a photograph of them to go with the Daily Prophet picture that Harry had framed and put on the mantel. Gilderoy looked a little tired, having had a nightmare just the night before, possibly due to his anxiousness about making a good impression and not embarrassing Harry at the ball. Sirius had been unconsciously walking on egg shells around him all day, but nothing could spoil the evening they had planned.

Sirius, sifting through his belongings for hours to find them, was wearing dark blue dress robes that were obviously rather old, though not too shabby, but held a sentimental value for him somehow. Harry suspected that they had belonged to Sirius from before his imprisonment.

“We’ll have Remus take a family picture once we get to the ball,” said Harry, doing his best to get them all out the door. They were taking Harry’s car instead of the floo.

“I imagine that he would be delighted,” chuckled Sirius, fastening the camera strap over his shoulder.

The days of living with Harry had done him a world of good. He was no longer too thin, and the haunted look had nearly left his eyes. Sirius looked as though he were getting a second chance at youth. Remus had visited them twice the week before, though it was easy to see that his main objective was to check on Sirius. Whatever had stood between them previously was slowly being ironed out by long talks and walks through the hills, though Harry always noticed that Remus seemed slightly troubled or worried, though he did his best to hide it.

Harry had overheard Remus’s parting words to Sirius while he was taking a break from writing.

“And they will always trouble us. No matter how safe we may feel.”

Harry had shifted uncomfortably when he heard those words, though he didn’t quite understand their meaning. Even as they all climbed into Harry’s car, they weren’t far from his mind. Only the rush of a cool afternoon breeze through his hair was able to drown them out and push them from his mind.

“London! Here we come!” laughed Gilderoy, grinning at Harry and at Sirius in the back seat.

Remus Lupin met them at the ballroom the Ministry was using, located in wizarding London and away from prying muggle eyes. He grinned when he saw Sirius. Remus’s eyes lost their innate sadness as he held out his arm to him and he took it. Gilderoy and Harry linked arms with amused smiles and followed them into the enormous ballroom, which was full of wizards and witches already. Everyone who was anyone in the wizarding world had been invited, and a large number of them had decided to come.

The room was lit by floating candles and torches along the walls. The light of the waning moon shone silver through a few high windows, giving the ballroom a warm, yet ethereal feel. The scent of cinnamon and tea filled the air, no doubt coming from little trays of tea and goodies being carried by house elves. Dinner would not be served until late in the evening. The guests would need something to tide them over while they danced. Soft music intended for that very purpose filled the air, though there was no sign of a band. It was obviously magical music, though no less pleasing because of it.

Two small house elves took their cloaks for them as they approached the ballroom floor. Harry scanned the crowd for familiar faces. He spotted Ron and Hermione talking to some older Ministry officials. Percy was sipping a cup of tea and watching the wizards and witches who were already dancing. Headmaster Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall were among them. Poor, repentant Draco Malfoy was dancing with Pansy Parkinson, whom he had yet to marry. In a corner almost out of sight, Ginny Weasley and Severus Snape were having their yearly argument about dancing, which he inevitably lost. Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas were sitting at a little table near one of the walls, probably discussing their work.

“Are we going to dance now, Harry?” asked Gilderoy, tugging at his sleeve.

“That’s what we came here for,” said Harry, allowing himself to be led onto the dance floor.

They danced together for almost an hour, laughing and talking quietly as they moved to the music, enjoying every minute of it. The pair earned a smile from McGonagall and Dumbledore, who winked at them as they left the dance floor, though Harry did not wish to speculate about where they were going.

Oliver Wood and his young finance from Beauxbatons greeted them cordially as they were dancing in close proximity. Oliver looked a little worse for wear after playing professional Quidditch for several years, but the lovely witch on his arm didn’t seem to mind. Everyone seemed to be having a splendid time on the dance floor and off, where Harry occasionally heard the sound of uproarious laughter, signaling, undoubtedly, that Fred and George Weasley had arrived.

The house elves were just bringing the tables out for the dinner and Harry and Gilderoy were still lingering on the dance floor when the sound of glass shattering overhead extracted many a sharp and frightened gasp from the attendees of the ball. Glass flew all around them as three people in black robes and masks burst through the windows and leapt to the ballroom floor with their wands drawn. It was instant chaos such as Harry had not seen since the days of Voldemort. Magic sizzled through the air as harsh voices began calling out curses, the wizards and witches slow to react to the unexpected attack.

Harry whipped out his wand with one hand and grabbed Gilderoy with the other, hissing, “Run!” as he did so.

Gilderoy fumbled for his wand and shook his head mutely. He had no intention of going anywhere. Leaving Harry was not an option.

Around them the air was filled with screams, though the battle had been joined. Good witches and wizards were hurling curses and spells at the individuals in Death Eater garb. Harry realized that there were more of these black clad villains that he had originally believed. Others had come through the shattered windows or perhaps rushed the door. Harry flung disarming spells at them as quickly as he could from his unprotected spot on the ballroom floor.

Suddenly there was an explosion of magic nearby that lifted him from his feet. Harry clinched his wand in his hand and tried to roll with the impact as he hit the ground. He was dazed, but that didn’t keep him down long. His body reacted to the surge of adrenaline, no less powerful than the one he had felt just a year earlier as he fought Lord Voldemort. He stumbled to his feet and cast a binding spell on the nearest black robed figure, looking around for Gilderoy.

He spotted blond hair and beige and gold robes a few meters away and ran toward him with his wand raised defensively. The noise around him was deafening. He slid to his knees beside Gilderoy, who had been stunned by the blast, which had left the ballroom floor pitted and the air full of acrid smoke.

“Gilderoy?” Harry questioned, rolling him onto his back.

“What’s happening?” Gilderoy moaned, his eyes clouded by terror.

Harry crouched over him protectively as green flashes flickered nearby. He hushed him as he felt heavy steps reverberating through the floor behind him. Harry turned to see a masked figure towering over them. Shielding Gilderoy with his body, Harry began to raise his wand.

“Expelliarmus!” the figure cried in a fell voice of ice and malice. Harry’s wand flew from his hand. He could feel bones in his hand snap at the force.

Harry stifled a cry and fought to keep Gilderoy safe beneath him as the figure brought his wand to bear on both of them. He squeezed his eyes closed and hoped that giving his life would be enough to save Gilderoy.

“Accio glass!” he heard Gilderoy yell, managing to point his wand toward a pile of glass shards behind their attacker.

There was an earsplitting scream just above them. Harry felt glass shards rain about them. And there was something moist dripping nearby. He opened his eyes as a dull thud registered. Harry turned to see the Death Eater collapse with long and jagged shards of glass imbedded in his back. He lay motionless, dead.

“Gilderoy, you saved us,” said Harry as he scrambled for his wand, holding it gingerly in his broken hand.

Gilderoy only nodded his head and closed his eyes, his wand slipping from his fingers.

Their clothes were flecked with blood. Harry looked around to see two of the black robed wizards flee through the high windows using levitation charms. He spotted Dumbledore and McGonagall near the ballroom entrance. They had obviously driven the dark wizards away. Both wizard and witch were forces to be reckoned with.

Harry looked at his lover and felt both worry and pride. He had saved them both with a simple spell and quick thinking. Harry gently lifted his head and shoulders into his lap, wincing at the pain in his hand.

“Harry? Harry? Are you all right?” yelled Sirius as he ran toward them, his feet crunching on the glass.

“Gilderoy ...” Harry said, loosening his collar to feel for a pulse. “I think he may be hurt.”

“And you?” asked Sirius, looking at the blood.

“My hand’s broken, but I’m fine. Gilderoy needs medical attention,” Harry told him forcefully.

Sirius looked around the ballroom, which was in shambles, and said, “Some Ministry personnel are on their way, but I don’t see anyone ...”

“What about Remus?”

“He went with some off-duty Aurors to round up the ones who got away,” said Sirius.

“Madam Pomfrey?” asked Harry, brushing his fingers through Gilderoy’s hair.

“She’s still at the school, Harry, but don’t worry. Help will be here in a matter of moments, I’m sure,” said Sirius, patting Harry’s knee as he joined him on the floor. “His color looks good. Was he hit by a curse or a hex or that exploding spell?”

“Explosion,” said Harry, his teeth chattering. He didn’t feel at all well. He had what felt like a stitch in his side, but was more likely a broken rib, and he still felt quite dazed from the fall he had taken. “I should have been looking out for him.”

“Harry, no one expected this attack, not tonight of all nights, not even Remus, and he thinks a good deal about these things being a Defense Against the Dark Arts professor and all. Everyone did well tonight, Harry, including you, otherwise many lives might have been lost,” said Sirius, gently slipping behind him and letting Harry rest against him as he continued to hold Gilderoy in his arms. “Everything’s going to be all right,” Sirius whispered in his ear.

“Sirius ...”

“Yes, Harry?” he asked.

“Gilderoy was very brave. He killed that Death Eater,” said Harry, nodding toward the fallen, bloody form.

“Indeed?”

“With just a summoning charm. I don’t know how he managed it.”

“He has had good teachers,” Sirius chuckled, watching Harry check his pulse again with trembling fingertips.

“I wanted this to be a night to remember. Now it’s turned into one that we won’t be able to forget,” said Harry, suddenly feeling very sleepy.

“Harry? Are you all right?”

Sirius’s voice sounded very far away, and Harry suddenly found that he couldn’t answer. It was like falling asleep only he was aware of the fact that he was drifting away and didn’t really want to, and he couldn’t quite muster the strength to fight it. Soon Sirius’s voice had faded away and darkness had overpowered him.

“I don’t think he needs to go to the hospital. His hand will be fine. The ribs too. The concussion is not that severe. I can give him a healing potion. Then he just needs bed rest and lots of it,” said a familiar feminine voice. It sounded very much like Poppy Pomfrey.

“And Gilderoy?” questioned a kindly, but worried voice, his godfather.

“Oh, he was just bruised up a bit. Then he fainted, I suspect,” she said.

“He should be coming around then.”

“Give him five minutes or so,” said Pomfrey.

Harry could feel something hard under his back. He was almost certain he was still lying on the floor. He could hear voices murmuring, some far and some near. He wrenched his eyes open to see two blurry shapes leaning over him.

“Are you back with us, Harry?” questioned Sirius, slipping his glasses back on his face for him.

“How long was I out?”

“Barely ten minutes, right, Poppy?” said Sirius, looking nervously at Madam Pomfrey.

“Yes, something like that. Keep a watch on both of them. I have other patients to attend to,” she warned him crisply.

Harry turned his head and could see other mediwitches moving around the room, treating the numerous wounded. He glimpsed Ginny Weasley some distance away leaning over what appeared to be a pile of dark robes and a frock coat, or else an injured Professor Snape. Oliver Wood was sitting on the floor nearby with a cold compress to his head. His finance looked as though she had just been sick. Ron and Hermione were apparently tending to Percy, who had been in the thick of things, and Albus Dumbledore was right by their side. Ron looked as white as a sheet. Unfamiliar witches and wizards were scattered throughout the room in small clusters, taking care of the wounded, much like Sirius was doing. Many people Harry had seen earlier were missing, either out of sight or chasing the villains who had perpetrated this attack.

“Is Gilderoy okay?” asked Harry, turning his head in the other direction to look at him where he lay upon his side nearby, just as he had been before Harry had passed out.

“Poppy says that he just fainted, probably from the fright,” Sirius reassured him, taking Harry’s uninjured hand and giving it a squeeze.

“Are you all right?” Harry asked.

“Me? I was in the kitchen over there when it started. I was lucky. Good cover, you know?” chuckled Sirius, trying to summon his Gryffindor bravado.

“Was anyone ... killed, Sirius?”

“What kind of question is that? You should rest, Harry, until Poppy gets back with a potion for you.”

“How many?”

“Five,” answered Sirius, knowing that Harry wouldn’t relent until he knew. “And we were lucky. Those were the last of Voldemort’s followers. The very last ones who had stayed hidden for a year. All they wanted to do was kill as many good wizards and witches as they could. I imagine they expected to kill a good many more than five,” said Sirius.

“Still ...”

“Yes, very tragic.”

“Has Remus come back?” asked Harry.

“No, and none of those that went out are likely to return before morning.”

“You didn’t want to go too?”

“Of course I wanted to go, but not everyone could. Someone had to stay and look after you and Gilderoy. Remus insisted. He insisted that someone look after our family. And he was too proud to remain behind. Too angry as well,” said Sirius, helping Harry into a sitting position.

Harry nodded slowly, understanding that beneath Remus’s mild-manner exterior, there was a heart of both a lion and a werewolf, equally ferocious given the proper circumstances.

Turning his attention to Gilderoy, he noticed that his lover’s eyes were open. He brushed back the blond curls from his forehead.

“Gilderoy?”

He was unspeaking and unmoving. His eyes looked glassy and a little unfocused, almost as though Gilderoy was looking at something, but not anything that could be seen by the naked eye. His gaze had retreated inward perhaps.

“I think he’s in shock, Harry,” said Sirius quietly. “No surprise really. He’s a very gentle fellow and he just killed someone. Not to mention that explosion.”

“Gilderoy? Say something?” Harry begged, stroking his cheek.

“There was a fellow in my year at school that accidentally set someone on fire. He was like this for days,” said Sirius, watching as Gilderoy’s eyelids flickered. “Madam Pomfrey should be back in a few minutes, Harry.”

“Gilderoy?” he questioned again.

This was worse than the nightmares, far worse. Harry always knew the nightmares would end. Gilderoy was always rattled, always afraid, but he was never unable to express that fear. He was beginning to feel sick as he picked up one of Gilderoy’s hands. He was cold to the touch. His wand hand was splattered with blood that was not his own.

“Poppy’s coming with the potions,” said Sirius, nudging him as squeezed Gilderoy’s hand.

Harry shook his head. He didn’t want a potion. He wanted to have his wits about him for Gilderoy’s sake. Sirius gently pulled him away from Gilderoy and pressed a small bottle into his hands.

“Drink up, Mister Potter. I dare say that you need it,” said Madam Pomfrey before continuing on her way.

“Why did the Ministry call upon her of all people?” grumbled Harry.

“Dumbledore. He wanted her here. Now take your medicine,” said Sirius. “He’s safe. You don’t have to worry now. Just drink the potion and have a nice nap.”

Harry looked at the concern in Sirius’s eyes and nodded before drinking the concoction. His head and ribs ceased to ache immediately. He felt drowsy as Sirius took the bottle from his hand.

“Keep an eye on him,” said Harry tiredly.

“Of course,” Sirius agreed, putting an arm behind Harry who leaned against him and seemed to relax. “I hardly ever got to hold you as a child, Harry. Your mum was worried that I’d drop you on your head, and I wasn’t around very often ... Then ... you know. I guess I can make up for part of that tonight,” Sirius told him.

Harry managed a smiled and said, “Yeah, I guess so.” Then he closed his eyes and drifted into a dreamless sleep.

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