Harry Potter and the Pretty Sorcerer's Balls

Soon Harry was sitting down to a feast more magnificent than anything he had ever imagined. It wasn't just a tantalising meal overflowing with delicious things to eat, it was a Christmas extravaganza. The Great Hall had been breathtakingly decorated throughout the holiday season, accented with holly and mistletoe and dominated by a dozen enormous Christmas trees, each adorned more beautifully than the next. Tonight an even grander touch of magic filled the room. Majestic silver snowflakes glittered in the air, never falling or melting. A thousand gold and silver pixies soared through the hall, spreading joy with their melodic voices. The crystalline light they cast lit up the Great Hall and sparkled off of the snowflakes, reflecting soft shimmering beams of light throughout the room.

Harry had happily parted with his previous outfit and sat down for dinner decked out in his new maroon jumper, Ron sat across from him very pleased to be in green.

"See, Percy?" George sing-songed at his older brother, who, earlier that day had been forced much against his will into his own orange gift from home. "Weasley jumpers are all the rage - Harry wouldn't wear one otherwise." He winked at Harry - who nearly swooned.

Harry indeed fell right out of his chair a moment later, when the Christmas cracker he had pulled with Fred, exploded with a bang, a cloud of dust, and the outpouring of several live white mice. The twins laughed and applauded, while Percy hoisted Harry back onto his seat.

"Goodness!" Harry giggled. "I wasn't expecting that!" Waiting for him on the table was his prize - a Rear Admiral's hat. Harry burst into another round of giggles, his cheeks flushing bright red.

Full to bursting and piled with prizes from the spectacular crackers, the boys waited until after the evening tea to wrap up their unwrapping.

"You fixed my robes!" Ron cried after tearing open the colourfully wrapped package. His too short hand me down robes now sported a simpler version of the same tailoring Draco and Harry had done at Madam Malkins (which was really rather more attractive than the usual Hogwarts cut), as well as an addition of fabric at the hem, sewn by machine but with stylish black on black hand-ticking over the outer seam.

"I don't know the proper stitching spell but there's a machine in the muggle studies classroom."

"This is brilliant!" Ron exclaimed, holding one of the robes up to his chest and studying the extra fabric around his ankles. "It looks like the material is really supposed to be there! It looks ... it looks - fancy!"

After Harry had opened the gift Ron had made him, he fanned his face again to keep his tears of joy in check. Ron had put together an enormous scrapbook of carefully cut and pasted tips, tricks, and helpful hints for Quidditch and flying in general, from what had to have been years worth of old Quidditch magazines.

They tore into their cards next, saving Draco's for last as it was addressed to both Harry and 'Weasley.'

"Trading cards?" Ron exclaimed with annoyance, as two Chocolate Frog cards slipped to the floor, "and he doesn't say anything about Flamel!" he threw the Christmas card to the bed in disgust.

"Oh he did better than that, Ron," Harry gushed looking at the two cards in his hand. "Nicolas Flamel! Albus Dumbledore!" he waved the cards victoriously. "Albus Dumbledore, currently Headmaster - bla, bla, bla ... his work on alchemy with his partner, Nicolas Flamel! That's why the name's familiar - I got the Headmaster's card on the train ride here." He turned to the other card, "Born in 1326, Nicolas Flamel is the only documented maker of the Sorcerers Stone. The celebrated alchemist is in possession of the only stone currently in existence. Other notable achievements include the development of the worlds most potent topical ointment for joint pain, and his aptitude for certain aspects of divination - Flamel is able to predict inclement weather with near 100% accuracy."

"The Sorcerers Stone." Ron said under his breath. "Alchemy is about turning metal into gold - I guess that's what the stone does."

"Well no wonder Snape and Quirrell want at it." Harry gushed, his eyes alit with awe, "I think if I were Hagrid, I'd have run off with it when I had the chance! - Or at least had a bit of a go with it before handing it over to the Headmaster."

"Me too," Ron agreed vehemently.

They fell asleep that night full of turkey, puddings, mystery, and visions of gold.

The boys met Draco and the brutes at the front doors when the students arrived back from the holiday.

"Where's Hermione?"

"How would I know?" Draco snapped at Ron, "Maybe she had the good sense not to come back where she doesn't belong."

"You're such a poop," Harry pouted before brightening again as Neville and Hermione passed through the doors. The Gryffindors and Slytherins parted, agreeing to meet in the library once the returning parties dropped their things off in the dorms.

Neville and the brutes soon bored of the library. The instant they were alone at the table, the four closed their schoolbooks, turning the conversation immediately to Nicolas Flamel and the Sorcerer's Stone.

"It's all so very strange," Harry hushed. "Flamel and the Headmaster worked together - but Flamel must've died ages and ages ago - unless the Headmaster is even older than we thought."

"No, he's not that old. Flamel is probably just a ghost," Ron stated dismissively. "Except -" his eyes lit up, "- the card keeps talking like he's still alive!"

"There are stranger things going on that that," Hermione furrowed her brow. "Don't you think it's odd that someone willing to break into Gringotts - to take something that changes metal to gold - didn't take anything else from the bank?"

Ron and Harry looked at her blankly while Draco glared.

"Honestly!" Hermione rolled her eyes, "If in the end all they wanted was money - why didn't they take any?"

"Quirrell and Snape aren't after the Sorcerer's Stone at all, then?" Draco glared, his voice heavy with sarcasm. "I know, Fluffy's really guarding the last bottle of Flamel's ointment for joint pain."

Hermione returned Draco's glare before leaving the table altogether in favour of the isles upon isles of books. Ron sent Draco a glare of his own and followed.

"Why do we have to hang around with her?" Draco growled.

"We hang around with her because we like her." Harry sniffed. The two sat in awkward silence until Ron and Hermione returned to the table, Hermione hunched over with the weight of an enormous tome. Harry scowled at Ron and hurried over to share the heavy burden.

Draco sneered at them all and left the library altogether.

"Moody little bugger," Ron grumbled.

"Oh leave him be," Harry cooed, "he's just had a two week dose of 'Father says' - he'll settle down soon enough."

"Ha!" Hermione exclaimed once she had found what she wanted in the Encyclopaedia Enchantica, "I knew it couldn't be about money! The Sorcerer's Stone can produce the elixir of life - Snape and Quirrell are after immortality."

"But Snape can already do that," Harry pouted at their puzzled looks. "On our first day of potions - he said he could teach us how to 'stopper death,' right before he called us dunderheads."

"You're right." Ron muttered.

"None of this makes any sense!" Hermione moaned.

Draco spent the next few days openly scowling at Hermione and avoiding both Ron and Harry whenever they were with her - which was often. In an effort to maintain their loyalty to Draco - without losing Harry's friendship, the brute brothers waved much less enthusiastically at breakfast each morning.

Harry was growing ever more saddened by Draco's behaviour and sat with his chin in his hands and his face in a full pout.

"You said it yourself Harry," Ron mumbled through his bowl of cereal. "Draco will get over himself in a couple of days. I can't believe he hasn't already gone crazy with only those two idiots to keep him company."

"Don't call them that!" Neville whined, slamming his fork down on the table. Every Gryffindor within earshot looked at him in astonishment. "They're nice and kind and unlike some people, they would never say a mean word against their friends!" The stunned table watched in silence as the shy round faced boy left the table.

"Have you already managed to offend every first year student at Hogwarts?" Hermione questioned with a wicked grin.

"Just the Gryffindors," Harry, with his own coy grin, answered on the very red-faced boy's behalf. "Though, in Ron's defence, he hasn't offended me yet."

"He got me twice though," Lavender jumped in, "so it still counts as a full set."

"Alright, alright," Ron threw up his arms in defeat. "I have a big mouth - I get it."

Ron apologised during potions - he was really getting quite good at that - and Neville was quick to accept. He even went out of his way to be extra ... civil to Crabbe, who he was working with that day.

They had fallen back into their school routine with a couple of small adjustments. Draco had stopped pointedly ignoring the boys when they were with Hermione, but actively spent as little time with her as possible, forcing Ron and Harry into the habit of dividing their time between the two. It didn't matter how the group was divided, neither combination was able to make heads or tales of the Snape-Quirrell-Sorcerer's Stone problem at hand.

"I've gone over our notes on the case a thousand times, Ron - it just doesn't add up!" Hermione was saying as Harry came in from yet another gruelling Quidditch practice.

"The case?" He cooed, "Well my, my, its Nancy Drew meets the Hardy Boys!"

Hermione giggled, "As long as I get to be Nancy."

Harry pouted and sniffed but soon his jest turned into a genuine frown.

"What's up, Cupcake?"

"Oliver told the team something today - and I just don't know what to make of it." Harry took a deep breath and spurted out his news, "Snape is refereeing our match against Hufflepuff."

Ron cursed rather colourfully while Hermione's eyes narrowed in contemplation.

"But why would he do that?"

"So he can knock Harry right out of the air - that's why!" Ron exclaimed.

"With the entire school as a witness?" Hermione puzzled. "I don't think so. And if he's going to make a show of refereeing the game, he'll be flying around the whole time - which is not the ideal way to cast a jinx or a curse."

"Diversion," Ron muttered now that he had a chance to think. "Snape is ref'ing a Gryffindor match - the students that hate him the most. Every kid in the castle will be on the pitch hoping Fred and George knock him out of the air - and I bet there aren't a lot of professors who'd want to miss that either. It's Hallowe'en all over again."

"I'll be flying - so you two will have to be on Troll Patrol!" Harry giggled. "If Quirrell is going to pay Fluffy a visit, you'll have to be there to stop him."

Hermione frowned, "We can't just follow him around - if he spots us, he'll know we're onto him, and the halls will be too crowded to use your invisibility cloak."

"Your right," Ron nodded, "We can use the cloak and just wait outside Fluffy's door in case he comes. Malfoy can keep an eye on him if he goes to the game instead."

The day of the Gryffindor Vs. Hufflepuff match arrived, and just as Ron predicted, the entire school - students and professors alike - had packed the stands, even Professor Dumbledore had come out to watch. Bets were being placed on whether Fred or George would dare send a Bludger his way - and if so, how many? And which twin would do it first?

Once the game had begun, Harry paid no mind to Snape and turned all his attention to finding the Snitch. Wood had changed his usual tactics for the Weasley Beaters and had instructed them to forget about the Hufflepuff chasers - Wood would handle anything they sent his way - and concentrate on simply occupying the Bludgers. It was a risky strategy that would have Fred and George playing their most brutal and exhausting game ever. But if Gryffindor won this match, they would move ahead of Slytherin in the house championship for the first time in years. Wood knew nothing of the Sorcerer's Stone and was concerned only that Snape was refereeing the match as a means to ensure Slytherins house dominance. He wanted the Bludgers out of the way so Harry could find the Snitch and end the game as quickly as possible.

True to form, Snape was calling fouls right and left, awarding penalties to Hufflepuff whenever the Gryffindor Chasers intercepted the Quaffle, and again once Fred sent the crowd to its feet in a cheer by sending a Bludger straight at Snape's gut. Unwilling to let the Bludger be intercepted by the opposition, George was right behind Snape to bat the bludger back to his twin - via the space Snape was occupying, of course. Snape only just escaped both blows.

Harry scanned the Quidditch pitch as fast as he could without missing an inch - his eyes caught Snape's and locked in place with his best Draco styled glare. A mischievous grin came to Harry's lips and he coaxed Mr Nimble to reach its top speed yet - directly toward a now wide-eyed Professor Snape. At the last possible second Snape yanked on his broomstick pulling himself up out of harms way as the scarlet blur whizzed by him. Harry spun the broom around to a stop, his right arm waving the captured Snitch like a damsel with a kerchief. Snape was furious but the game was over nonetheless.

Harry hoped he had caught it in time to deter Quirrell from heading to the third floor corridor, where Ron and Hermione sat in wait.

A fair number of the spectators had poured onto the pitch to celebrate the win. The Headmaster himself among them. "Well done," he said quietly to Harry.

Harry acknowledged the complement with a tilt of his chin as he raced to Hagrid to accept a bone-crushing hug.

"I reckon yeh owe Professor Snape a new set o' knickers after what yeh jus' pulled," Hagrid whispered with a chuckle.

Harry rushed through his shower, jumped into his robes only half dried, and sped out of the changing room to meet his friends - not pausing even to gel his hair. He slowed only to gently place Mr Nimble in the broom-shed. He raced to the castle at top speed - he wanted to hear everything.

Harry reached the third floor corridor and after seeing that no one was there, called out, "Yoo hoo, Hermione! Ron! Are you here?" then gasped louder than he spoke as his friends suddenly appeared, sweeping out from under the cloak.

"The game is over?!" Ron exclaimed.

"We won!" Harry yelped, "Did anything happen?"

"Nothing," the two would be spies replied together. They made their way to the library with Harry recounting the brief Quidditch match. They spotted Draco immediately and beelined to his table.

The four stopped, suddenly struck by how odd it was to be sitting together. It seemed like ages since last Draco had been in Hermione's presence.

Draco had little to report. Quirrell attended the game and didn't do anything suspicious. They were at a dead end.

With no more clues to decipher, the group turned their attention to more pressing matters - like the house championship. The Slytherins now point blank refused to partner with Harry during potions class - every point counted, and if Harry was partnered with a Gryffindor - Slytherin would be back on top in no time. Ron played his game of potions chess masterfully and rearranged the seating arrangements: Hermione and Harry - the two best potions students - would work together, Neville partnered with Draco, and Ron with either Crabbe or Goyle.

Snape was livid.