Transition

Harry stared dubiously at the articles of clothing he had laid out piece by piece on the black table. He checked his watch again and figured that he ought to don them soon if he wanted to be in the Great Hall early.

But just how in hell do I know I'm getting it right? Piqued, he picked up what looked like a shirt, but if he wore that, did it mean he had to walk about with his chest exposed? He chewed on his lower lip anxiously. Why didn't Elaviel send me instructions of what to wear first? Ah! I need help!

Then Dobby appeared, his pale yellow eyes looking up at him earnestly. "Mister Potter looks like he needs help wearing his costume, sir? Can Dobby help?"

"Are you sure you can help?" Harry replied doubtfully. Then he sighed and took off his clothes, leaving his boxers on. He did not think that even his ex-lover would provide him with his own underwear. He was already barefoot, and together with the house-elf he looked for something resembling trousers.

"I think this must be the slacks, Mister Potter," Dobby said as he picked up an item that Harry had mistaken for a handkerchief. It was not; the house-elf shook the cloth free, and it was a pair of pants. Harry muttered something unflattering under his breath as he took them out of Dobby's hands.

The black loose slacks did not feel like silk, but they were soft to the touch, and Harry had the feeling that they would flow about his legs as he danced. The material felt cool to his skin, and it wasn't as scratchy as his school robes. They were loose however, and they kept slipping down. He couldn't help but wonder if the pants were meant to be worn like those jeans that clung to the hips. His pants dropped to his knees when he tried to put on a shirt; again, he had mistaken the dark emerald sleeveless shirt for something else.

I need a mirror, Harry thought absently. Right on cue, a full-length mirror appeared on the wall and he unconsciously pulled his trousers up. Then, to his amazement, his pants tightened around his waist, automatically tucking the sleeveless shirt in neatly at the same time. Well, isn't this remarkable, he thought sarcastically, and put on what he had at first thought was a shirt.

It was long, like a tunic, but with ridiculously large and flowing sleeves, and it was black. He took a long silver chain with attachments of crystals, and Dobby helped him wear it like a belt. The creature whispered something he couldn't catch, but whatever it was, it probably was meant to ensure that the knot on the chain remained tied. He then reached for the final piece of the costume, a dark-emerald robe that reached his ankles. More magic ensued; thin wire chains appeared and fastened themselves to his shoulders, guaranteeing that the robe wouldn't come off even in the most arduous of dances.

Harry stared at the mirror and gulped, wondering just how much Elaviel and Bluestone had spent to provide him the costume. He started to walk about the room and get used to the feeling of the luxurious clothing, but he was stopped by his helper. The house-elf pointed at the black boots that had come along with the parcel. The young wizard took several minutes to put them on, stamping and jumping in them to get comfortable. He noticed that his garments had a strange silvery and bright emerald sheen when he moved. He observed the effects dubiously and shuddered at the thought of the attention that he would receive.

Merlin, I hope the others are as unusual as I am. He looked again at the mirror and contemplated the style of his hair. Dobby was already working on him before he was aware of it. Fifteen minutes passed and the house-elf diffidently ask him what he thought of the hairstyle.

At first, the emerald-eyed wizard had assumed that the creature would just do the simple, spiky look but Dobby had used more magic. For once, his hair didn't have that unruly quality the Potters – the male ones at least – were famous for.

"I have to go now, Mister Potter. Have to help with the lighting in the Great Hall," Dobby told him apologetically just as he was sliding his wand down a pocket on his left thigh.

"Thanks for your help; I probably would have worn this inside out if you hadn't," Harry said sincerely and watched as the house-elf vanish with a faint pop after the small creature had collected Harry's things. His pair of green eyes fell upon to the mask, half-hidden by a silk handkerchief in the box. He lifted it up and fingered the feathers that framed the edges carefully.

I'm dressing up as a male Veela. Dear Merlin.

He suspected that more magic was going to happen when he placed the mask on. What he did not expect was the feeling of his glasses becoming one with dark green mask. His vision blurred the moment the mask was in place. He tried to wrench the vizard off his face in panic, but the idea of his glasses remaining stuck to it prevented him from doing just that.

A minute later, his eyesight returned to normal, and he blinked experimentally. He looked into the mirror and flushed at his reflection. His mask had transformed into something that fit his face perfectly. The only part that remained exposed was his mouth and neck. He turned slightly to the side and watched the way his mask turned from dark emerald to midnight blue. It flashed a bright turquoise under the light of the candles.

Then he frowned and cursed as fear struck his gut. There were some dark green and bright blue streaks in his mess of dark black hair. Damn, but what if they don't turn back to black? he thought in alarm. He peered into the mirror, and to his relief, he found that his hair had not been dyed, but several tendrils of colored thread had woven through his hair like vines. Up close, his mask looked like it was made of scales. He found that he rather like its simplicity; at least Elaviel or Bluestone hadn't made – or bought – something that was encrusted with jewels, just threads, scale-like materials and black fluffy feathers.

He stared closer and couldn't see himself wearing any glasses. But they're still on. I can feel it on my nose. He took a deep breath and gently tried to remove his disguise. It came off easily, and he watched in amusement as his glasses un-glued from it. He put it back on, glad that he wouldn't have to deal with the horror of the mask remaining stuck on his face after the ball. A quick glance at his wristwatch warned him that he should go to the Great Hall if he did not want to make that much of a grand entrance.

Dean had organized a wager on who will make the Grand Entrance. I don't want it to be me and I don't want to lose my bet, either. He grinned, because although he was thinking rather predictably, his friends had still been amazed that he had bet his money on Draco. He checked himself in the mirror one last time before he discreetly opened the door. He popped his head out, and after seeing that no one was using the corridor at the moment, took the opportunity to walk towards the staircases.

There was a trill of excited giggles just as he descended on the fourth floor. Two girls were twirling around and their skirts flared beautifully about their ankles. They were laughing happily, and Harry smiled. The girls acted as though they were twins, but Harry didn't know any twin girls that had long golden hair, curled artistically down their backs. They looked like snow maidens – fair, dressed in white, with wreaths of baby's breath crowning their heads. That one has a very nice neck, he observed one of the giggling witches and imagined himself kissing the pale spot. He snorted. Am I supposed to be a Veela or a Vampire? His lips curved into a mischievous smile.

Someone whistled and the two girls stopped their dance and turned around at the same time. The new one was dressed in black and midnight blue – a costume that made the witch looked as though she was from the time when Celtic Druids still walked the earth. Luna.

"I told you the simple and fair maidens would work on the two of you," she said without preamble. "You even made one person stop walking to admire you."

Harry approached them and bowed to the three witches. "You look magnificent, the three of you," he said honestly.

"And who might you be? Or rather, what are you?" Luna asked with good humor as her two friends remained in the background, stunned.

He wondered if he should tell her who he really was, but remembered Bluestone's request. Thinking of the wizard gave him an idea. "I'm Bluestone and I, my ladies, am a Veela. Due to the constraints that the Headmaster has placed on me, I'm unable to use my … ah … abilities. So forgive me if I seem a little … dull to you."

One of the snow maidens finally found her voice. "No, Bluestone, not dull," she said breathlessly. "I'm Flora and this is Nightingale. Can we dance with you? Later, I mean."

"I'm honored, but I will ask the lady druid too, if she wishes to dance," Harry said, emulating Starkmind's silky tones.

"I'm Luna and I'm flattered that you want to dance with me," the Ravenclaw blushed prettily. "But are you a Slytherin?"

Harry laughed and wondered if the girl could recognize him at all. "Merlin, no! I'm not. Anyway, what would a Slytherin do in the upper floors of the castle?"

"Good!" Luna exclaimed in relief then absently linked her arm to his. Maybe she knew who he was after all. "Let's go down now. I wanna see what else our fellow students are wearing!" She pulled him along and bewildered, he followed her with the two fair girls trailing behind excitedly. After a while, Luna let go of his arm and then, astonishingly, she started walking slowly and elegantly.

Getting into character? His eyebrows lifted, and he had to thank for the mask concealing his expression.

Several more students filed in behind them and he heard inquisitive murmurs coming from the group. The Entrance Hall was already filled with small groups of people. Harry saw that a group of girls had teamed up to dress provocatively like the Veelas that had paraded across the field during the Quidditch World Cup three years ago. Even though they were veiled, they still wore masks to hide their identity. Harry gulped and applauded the girls' courage and audacity to wear such skimpy costumes.

"Bluestone," Luna called him softly. "Are you going to ask them to join your harem?" Her eyes twinkled with mischief.

Harry laughed heartily. "How little you know of us. I fear our kind don't tolerate harems, my lady. It's one or no-one. Although not everyone is lucky to find their true partners, we usually keep to one for all time."

"Oh?" Flora crept towards him. "Then have you found yours yet?"

"The night has barely started," Harry replied philosophically, and caused the three girls to laugh.

When Luna got her laughter under control, she gestured at them to enter the Great Hall. She looked around her with wide eyes, for the area looked bare – not even tables to hold their food. More students trickled in and were just as shocked. The murmurs from the students grew stronger and Harry observed the newcomers. He saw a couple of vampires; for some reason their cape pronounced what they were supposed to be. Some girl – someone with very thick and long black hair – had dressed up as Morgan le Fay.

He saw Hermione and Ginny, and nearly bit his tongue in surprise. Dear God! I think Mrs. Weasley would have a heart attack if she'd seen her daughter. The red-haired witch was wearing a very short, white silk dress and her mask was covered with white feathers, making her look like a swan. His other friend was wearing a knee-length, dark blue dress, and she had tamed her hair to flow down her shoulders in beautiful curls. Her mask twinkled as she turned to greet Ron the pirate.

Damnation. Interest sparked in Harry, and he curbed it quickly. He absolutely could not fall for a strictly-female boy, let alone his best friend! A pirate? he thought weakly.

Then Dumbledore – the Headmaster was without a mask, but was dressed as Sherlock Holmes – strode forward with Professor McGonagall, who was dressed as a druid in green. They were the only professors recognizable; Harry couldn't find Flitwick, Sprout or Snape among the colorful crowd.

The ancient wizard cleared his throat to gain the attention of those present. His dreamy azure eyes skimmed the Hall, and he nodded his head slightly. "Let's wait for a few more sec – ah." Everyone turned to where Dumbledore was looking.

A wizard with hair that was streaked with colors from gold to silver to black entered the Great Hall. The latter walked confidently to an unoccupied spot, with effortless grace. Many of the students were making hushed comments and there was some nudging going on around the Hall. Harry stared at the wizard, who was wearing a cerulean tunic trimmed with silver; very simple, but elegant. He sighed; he had just lost the bet, because whoever the wizard was, he was not Harry's part-time tutor. His chin is too … blunt to be Malfoy's.

"Looks like everyone is here," Dumbledore said in that wheezy voice of his, inspecting the crowd carefully. "Let the reception before the dance begin! Happy Halloween to all!"