The Final Reckoning

Chapter Twenty-Eight: The Halloween Ball

Harry didn't bother with his homework anymore, or the stack of parchment covered in coded messages. The moment Andromeda Tonks left the common room, he turned to Ron, Hermione and Ginny and announced he was turning in. Nobody said anything, for which Harry was grateful.

He gathered his books and headed upstairs, relieved to find that Seamus, Dean and Neville were asleep, all of them with their bed curtains drawn shut. Harry stripped off his clothes, pulled on pyjamas, and pulled the letter from his trouser pocket. He smiled sardonically at the seal, which was the Black family crest; only Sirius had magicked the wax to read 'Stupid pureblood nonsense' in tiny letters.

Harry put the letter on the bed; he brushed his teeth quickly, came back into the dimly lit bedroom and pulled the curtains shut round his four-poster. The wax seal snapped apart when he bent it, and he opened the letter.

20 June 1996

Dear Harry,

If you're reading this, that means I'm dead. I only hope I got to say goodbye to you first, and that dying didn't hurt too much.

If you hate me for abandoning you, go ahead, that's your right. I know some of the people in your life, the people you care about, have a habit of leaving you behind. And maybe if I'd just listened to Remus and stayed behind instead of coming after you, I'd still be alive, and you wouldn't be reading this damn thing.

But I have to go. Snivellus came and told us what happened, and I knew I couldn't stay here another second. This house is killing me slowly. Not just because of the horrible memories here, or even the loneliness, although Merlin knows that doesn't help, but because I'm stuck here like a bloody prisoner and I can't help you like I had once. If you never know the feeling of being useless, you'll be lucky. That's what I've been to you, Harry. I've been useless, as a friend and a godfather.

'You were never useless,' Harry whispered, feeling the tears sting his eyes. The scars on his heart, he'd thought they had healed, but reading the letter was cutting them open afresh.

That's not the only reason I've gone, of course. I've left because I'm sick of this bloody house and being told what to do and being so careful all the damn time. This isn't living. I ate rats and lived in caves for a year, but at least I was free. Maybe I have a death wish after all. At least dead, I'm free.

That's selfish of me, isn't it? Yeah, it is. But I've spent thirteen years locked up, first surrounded by Dementors and then by my mother's portrait and Kreacher (I'm still debating which is worse). Death can't be worse than that, can it?

I don't know why, but something tells me it is a better place. Maybe I'll get to see James and Lily and I'll be able to tell them all about you, how you've grown into a man, how you've taken on more responsibilities than you deserve and yet you're still standing. Maybe I'll even be able to see you every day, though you won't know I'm there (if I can see you every day, I promise not to spy on you if you're snogging any girls). Maybe I'll have a spiffing wardrobe and I'll be handsome like I used to be, and be surrounded by beautiful, fawning women who wait on me hand and foot. Hell, if the above is all true, death sounds like a pretty good deal to me.

Well, all except the part about leaving you behind. I don't like that part, and I don't like knowing that I can't be there to help you beat the stuffing out of Voldemort. But I know you'll do fine in the end. You'll beat Voldemort, and you'll live a long, happy life. You've got a great group of friends who won't let you down, and I've never met anyone with more talent, or heart, or courage than you. You're a great wizard, and you're going to be an even better man. The best honour of my life was not being James Potter's best friend, but being godfather to his son. I only wish I could have done a better job, and I could have known you longer than I did.

Take care of yourself, Harry. You're going to be okay.

Love,

Sirius

Harry's eyes were so blurred with tears he could hardly read the last few lines of the letter. A sob choked his throat and he shoved it down. No. He would not cry again. He was sick of it, the crying. He'd already cried for Susan, for his parents, he wouldn't do it anymore. He wiped at his eyes furiously with one hand and crumpled the letter in his fist.

I never got to say goodbye. Damn you, Sirius! I never got to say goodbye!

Harry made another choked noise as he pushed down the lump in his throat, and suddenly he was tearing the letter, ripping it to shreds, cursing Sirius silently for having been so selfish as to want to die, for leaving him behind, the way everyone did.

Not everyone does, and you know it. Ron's still here, and Hermione, and Ginny...

Harry wiped his eyes again, and started to pull up the covers of his bed when he remembered the letter he'd torn into pieces. Sirius was never coming back. He was gone. All that was left of him were a few photographs and Harry's memories, and the memories of the others who'd known him.

He looked down at it for a moment, and then picked up his wand from beneath his pillow and pointed it at the pieces of parchment.

'Reparo.'

The letter repaired itself, and Harry slipped it beneath his pillow, next to his wand. He was asleep in less than a minute.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next few weeks flew by. The prefects had started to promote the Halloween ball and students were anxiously putting together costumes and seeking out partners. Harry asked Ron if he and Hermione had picked out costumes but Ron merely grunted sourly and said, 'You'll see.' He then made a noise to indicate he had no intention of further discussing the subject, and when Hermione started to speak, he silenced her with a sharp look.

Never mind, thought Harry. I don't want to be responsible for a row.

Hermione was as good as her word, regarding the codes; she put little notes at the bottom of each page explaining which code formation was which, and she'd already taken the trouble to undo the magical protections on each page. But even with all that help, translating the codes turned out to be very slow work. Ron and Harry both were struggling to keep up with their homework even as they tried to fit in regular Quidditch practices. Harry was still training with Luna once a week, and then there were D.A. meetings. Ron, meanwhile, had to contend with his Seer training and Head Boy duties, which only grew more onerous as the ball approached.

In the end, Ron and Harry found no time at all to focus on the codes. None, at least, if they meant to get any sleep at night. Harry found himself re-reading Sirius's letter every night, and yet the initial blunt pain of it had faded almost as quickly as it had started.

I guess this means I'm 'healing'.

Harry tried to put the ball, meanwhile, out of his mind; if he was honest with himself, he simply didn't feel like going. The concept of a Halloween ball brought up memories of last year and going with Susan, and after his disastrous attempts at dating both Daphne and Parvati, Harry wasn't feeling to keen on pursuing any girl at all at the moment.

The matter of Parvati, at least, resolved itself one evening after Quidditch practice. The Gryffindors had put in a gruelling session; the Chasers had mastered their Figure Eight formation; Ron was trying out a few daring new moves that allowed him greater reach for blocking goals; Colin and Seamus were now smacking bludgers more accurately than ever.

Harry showered quickly, dried off and threw on a heavy jumper, a pair of jeans, and his cloak; he picked up his gear and broom and was about to leave the changing rooms when he nearly collided with Parvati.

'Sorry,' he said quickly, setting down his gear.

'Sorry,' she said, taking a step back.

'Er, hi,' said Harry painfully. Parvati was freshly showered, and looked clean and pretty.

'Harry, can I have a word?' said Parvati.

'Sure,' said Harry at once, hoping his tone sounded very accommodating and apologetic. She looked rigid and angry and Harry half expected her to slap him. Well, it wasn't as if he didn't deserve it.

But she didn't. Instead, she straightened up and met his gaze.

'I want to apologise,' she said, in a very dignified tone of voice.

Harry was completely taken aback; he hadn't been expecting this at all. For a moment, he just stared at her stupidly before he found his voice.

'Apologise?' he managed. 'For what? I'm the one that should apologise.'

'Yes, well,' said Parvati, 'leaving me alone...and mostly naked...in an abandoned building was hardly the most gentlemanly thing you could do.'

'I'm sorry,' said Harry. 'I'm really, really sorry, let me explain--'

'I really think--'

'Please, just let me say this,' said Harry, and he took a deep breath. 'I like you, Parvati. I think you're a really nice person and... a fantastic Quidditch player and you're really smart and you're incredibly gorgeous...'

'But?'

'I'm not in love with you,' said Harry, knowing his face looked pained. He rushed to finish his clumsy monologue. 'There's nothing wrong with you at all; it's me. I just...I'm not used to...well, I've only had sex with one person and... and that was a serious sort of thing we had, you know, and... I don't think I'm really the sort to... to do it on the first date.'

Parvati bit her lip and looked at him sadly. 'You must think I'm such a slag.'

'No!' said Harry at once. 'I don't, I swear. You're not a slag. It's just...I can't really...sleep with a girl I'm not serious about. Or serious with, you know in a relationship...type of thing. But I don't think you're a slag.'

'Thanks,' she said. 'I've only had sex with one other person, too...actually. I don't know why I was so forward, but...Harry, I have a confession to make. I like you, too. I mean, you're brave and smart and you're really cute, too.'

Harry blushed.

'But,' Parvati went on, 'I realized--after I had some time to think about what happened-- that...I think I was probably using you.'

'Using me?'

'I suppose there was a part of me that wanted to know what it was like to have sex with the Boy Who Lived,' said Parvati. Her face was beet red and she looked ashamed. 'I'm sorry. It was wrong. You deserve better than that, it must drive you mad when people approach you just because you're famous.'

'It gets old,' Harry said, but to his surprise, he wasn't angry with her at all. On the contrary, he felt relieved.

'So...I think it's better if we're just friends,' said Parvati. 'Not that I'm not attracted to you but...I'm not in love with you, either... and I don't think we fit together all that well anyway.'

'Okay,' said Harry. 'Friends, then. And I am sorry about...about...you know.'

'Me, too,' said Parvati. 'Can we call it even?'

'Sure,' said Harry, and he held out his hand to shake; she accepted his hand in her own, and they shook on it, both of them smiling with obvious relief.

Well, he thought, that's two girls I've managed to break up with without it being a total disaster. Go me.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A week before the ball, Harry still didn't have a date. Ron had taken to needling him about this.

'You don't want to go stag, for heaven's sake,' he said. 'Even Crabbe and Goyle got dates again this year.'

'I don't think I want to go at all,' Harry said. 'I don't have a costume and I don't really fancy the idea of dealing with a date all evening.'

Ron let out a sigh. 'Wish I could skip out,' he said.

'Why?' said Harry. 'You finally get to go to a ball with Hermione, I thought you'd be thrilled.'

Ron snorted. 'You haven't seen my costume yet.'

'Is it that bad?' Harry asked.

Ron gave another disgusted snort. 'Multiply my maroon dress robes from fourth year times a hundred.'

Harry laughed. 'On second thought, maybe I will pop in, just to see what Hermione's making you wear.'

'She's not making me wear anything,' said Ron, bristling. 'I...I picked it out myself.'

'Yeah, right,' said Harry, rolling his eyes. 'You picked out a costume that's worse than your maroon dress robes?'

Ron's face fell. 'Dammit.'

'I'm definitely going now,' said Harry, grinning.

'Take the mickey out of me, Harry, and I'll beat you into next week,' said Ron.

Harry chuckled and pulled out his homework; he and Ron sat in front of the fire in the common room. Several other students were scattered about, studying quietly. Hermione was, as usual these days, in the library.

Harry and Ron were both well into their Transfiguration essays when Ginny entered the common room, looking distinctly annoyed.

'Hey, Gin,' Ron called. 'What's up?'

Ginny made a disgruntled noise. 'Men,' she said irritably.

'Uh oh,' said Ron, grinning at Harry. 'What'd we do this time?'

'Oh, you two haven't done anything,' said Ginny irritably, as she flopped down on the couch next to Harry.

'What, then?' said Ron.

'Colin's backing out of being my date to the ball, can you believe it?'

'What?' said Ron, sounding affronted. 'Where is he? I'll teach him a lesson--'

'Oh, calm down,' said Ginny, rolling her eyes. 'Don't go all "big brother" on me.'

'He can't do that, Ginny,' said Ron. 'It's rude.'

'Well, of course it's rude,' said Ginny, and she sighed. 'Look, the stupid git forgot he'd already asked Eloise Midgen to the ball.'

'Eloise Midgen?' said Ron, looking horrified. 'He chose Eloise Midgen over you?'

'Colin's had a mad crush on her months,' said Ginny. 'I've been trying to help him work up the courage to ask her out, but he's been too scared. Well, until recently, apparently. I think he asked me out of habit.'

'Eloise Midgen?' Ron repeated, shaking his head.

'Anyway,' said Ginny, 'so much for having a date. I suppose I could go stag. Or whatever the female equivalent is.'

'Doe?' Harry suggested, grinning.

'Hey, wait,' said Ron. 'You two go together.'

'What?' said Harry and Ginny together.

'You two should go together,' said Ron. 'Yeah, why not? You're both dateless, you're mates. You might as well, right?'

Harry tried not to blush but he did anyway when Ginny looked at him and smiled shyly.

'What about Parvati?' Ginny asked.

'That's done,' said Harry.

'Oh,' said Ginny. Her tone was sympathetic, but she pursed her lips as though she were trying not to smile.

'Well,' said Harry, shrugging and striving to sound casual, 'it might be fun.'

'I suppose,' said Ginny.

'And it would be nice to have a partner, considering Crabbe and Goyle both have them,' said Harry.

'True,' said Ginny. 'So...you and me, Harry?'

'Okay,' said Harry, painfully aware that they were agreeing to be each other's date in front of Ginny's older brother.

Ron, for his part, was gazing at them suddenly through narrowed eyes. He stopped the moment he met Harry's gaze and went back to looking at his Potions essay.

Ginny smiled at Harry for a moment, but then her face turned into a scowl again.

'Er, Ginny, you okay?' said Harry.

'Sorry,' she said, and she lowered her voice. 'I have a training session tonight with Malfoy again.'

'Has he tried anything?' Ron asked at once. ''Cause if he has--'

'No,' said Ginny sharply. She lowered her voice again. 'He's just insufferable, is all. I don't want to talk about him, bad enough I have to go near him.'

'Harry! Ron!'

The sound of Hermione's voice made Harry, Ron and Ginny look up.

'Hi, Ginny,' said Hermione breathlessly. She looked and sounded as if she'd run from the library.

''Mione, what's up?' said Ron, getting up and crossing to her.

'I've figured out something,' she said. 'Can we go to your room?'

Harry and Ginny sniggered and exchanged looks.

'Oh, really, it's nothing like that,' said Hermione impatiently. 'You two should come as well.'

'I can't,' said Ginny glumly. 'I...' she glanced over at the other students, who were now watching them with interest... 'have an appointment,' she finished.

'Oh,' said Hermione, and the look on her face said she understood. 'Well, I can tell you later, if you're interested.'

'Sure,' said Ginny. 'I should get going, though. I'll see you later.'

She smiled at Harry. ''Bye, Harry.'

''Bye, Ginny,' he said, smiling back, feeling a pleasant warmth settle in his chest. He hadn't expected to be going to a ball with Ginny, but the idea was growing on him. Indeed, it seemed obvious. They were friends, right? They got on well. They'd enjoy themselves.

Harry tried not to let his eyes linger on her copper hair as it swung down her back, or the way her jeans fit her so nicely through the hips.

'Let's go,' said Hermione anxiously.

'Okay, keep your hair on,' said Ron, gathering up his books; Harry snapped out of his reverie and followed suit.

'What's this about, anyway?' Harry muttered, as they started toward the portrait hole.

'I've figured something out about Hopkirk,' said Hermione triumphantly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ron shut the door to his room and sealed it with a wave of his wand.

'Tell us,' said Harry, taking up his usual position in Ron's chair as Ron sat on the bed. Hermione stacked her things, including several pieces of parchment with coded messages, on Ron's desk.

'Okay,' said Hermione. 'Hopkirk isn't a vampire. She's got traces of vampire blood--'

'How do you know?' said Harry.

'I'm getting to that, don't interrupt,' Hermione scolded. 'I worked out a few more of the codes. I'm not a hundred percent certain, but it looks like your mother really was corresponding with Hopkirk. They were doing some experiments on blood.'

'Her blood?' Ron said.

'No,' said Hermione. 'Well yes, they were testing her blood, but not for the same reason. No, they were working on all sorts of different human blood. Your mother even took samples of her own blood and ran experiments on them.'

'What sort of experiments?'

'I'm not sure,' said Hermione. 'The messages I've read don't go into the specifics, though they do mention ancient magic, and something called sanguen generare.'

'Sanguen generare?' Harry repeated.

'It means, roughly, blood to bring life,' said Hermione.

'Doesn't all blood bring life?' said Harry. 'I mean, you can't live without enough blood in your body, right?'

'True,' said Hermione, 'but this is different. Here, look at this message. I've written it out.'

She handed Harry a piece of clean, new parchment on which she had written, in very neat hand, a message that appeared. He read it aloud.

'"L: DD says V uses sanguen generare to prolong life, but according to tests, V's blood tainted with malice. Sanguen generare used properly can shield from Avada, but requires blood sacrifice".'

'What does that mean?' Ron asked.

'Here's another one,' said Hermione, handing him another scrap of parchment, on which she'd written another translated message.

'"Gris: DD wants to cast Sanguen Generare; will protect H and backfire if Avada is attempted. But will not kill V. Blood sacrifice key".'

'I still don't get it,' said Harry.

'They're talking about ancient magic, Harry,' said Hermione. 'Your mother's sacrifice, remember? Her blood sacrifice protected you against Voldemort's Killing Curse and caused it to backfire on him. But it didn't kill him.'

Harry blinked and read the final three words. 'Blood sacrifice key,' he muttered, and he looked up. 'She knew. My mum knew she couldn't save me from Voldemort unless...unless she sacrificed herself.'

Hermione nodded. 'Look at the date, Harry,' she said. 'It was just a few weeks before you were born.'

Nobody spoke for a long moment.

'What does this have to do with Hopkirk?' said Harry.

'There are these,' said Hermione, picking up a smaller stack. 'They're all from Hopkirk. They're all signed GH, addressed to your mum, after you were born. And they're all about Hopkirk doing experiments with a Shield Charm.'

'You mean...' said Ron.

'I was wrong,' said Hermione, scowling just a bit. 'I seem to be wrong a lot these days. It appears Hopkirk was trying to develop a Shield Charm that could block, or at least deflect the Killing Curse. She didn't want your mother to use the ancient magic, Harry. Listen to this.' Hermione pulled a piece of parchment from the small stack and began to read.

'L: Don't be hasty. Making great progress with shield. Can fully repel Crucio and Imperio. Won't be long for Avada. So close. SG might not be needed.'

There was another long silence before Hermione spoke again.

'Hopkirk's done it,' said Hermione. 'She developed a charm powerful enough to deflect the Killing Curse. But not...not in time to save your parents. And the charm isn't perfect; it deflects the curse, but the curse can still bounce away and hit someone. But still...what she's done is incredible. She must have been working on it at least from the time she knew your mum, if not before. It had to have taken her years.'

'But what about...all the other blood stuff?' said Harry, his mind reeling. Hopkirk had known his mother. They might have even been friends. They'd been running experiments on blood, and Hopkirk had been trying to develop a Shield Charm strong enough to repel the Killing Curse.

'I'm not sure where all their blood research leads yet,' said Hermione. 'There's still a lot left to translate.'

'That's our fault,' said Ron. 'Sorry, we've just been so swamped--'

'It's okay,' said Hermione, smiling at them fondly. 'I know you two aren't quite so good at managing your time.'

'Hey,' said Ron, pouting, but Hermione ruffled his hair.

'We'll work on them over the weekend,' said Harry firmly. 'Before the ball, after the ball, whatever.'

'We will?' said Ron. Hermione gave him a look. 'Yeah, we will,' he said.

'Hermione, wait, you said something else about Hopkirk, she's not a vampire--'

'Oh, that,' said Hermione. 'Hopkirk isn't a vampire. She's a succubus.'

'She's a what?' Ron asked.

'A succubus,' said Hermione. 'A demon.'

'Lovely,' said Harry, grimacing.

'I got the clue when her eyes flashed red that time,' said Hermione. 'Then I pulled a few things from the Restricted Section and everything fit. The unnatural beauty, her movements, the sexual heat, the reason she eats her food like she's getting off on it. It's all there. The vampire blood adds a bit of a twist, makes her give off waves of cold. I haven't figured that part out yet, either, how she got vampire blood; the likeliest explanation is that she must have shared blood with a vampire once before.'

Ron made a face. 'Yuck,' he said.

'It's how vampires are made, Ron, a blood exchange,' said Hermione. 'A vampire bites his victim and drains his blood, not to the point of death, but just enough to leave him really weak. Then, if he wants, he offers his victim a choice: death or vampire-hood. If the victim chooses to turn, the vampire opens a vein and the victim sucks out some of the vampire's blood. A period of time passes in which the victim goes from being alive to being undead, and then...he's a vampire.'

'That's disgusting,' said Ron.

'With Hopkirk, though, the change didn't happen,' said Hermione. 'She was too powerful to fully succumb. Which begs the question of why a vampire would even bother with a succubus as a victim, a succubus is a powerful demon, she could easily fight back...but anyway...'

'But...what does she do, as a demon, I mean?' said Ron.

'A succubus and an incubus--that's the male equivalent--are essentially sex demons,' said Hermione. 'They're immortal, in the sense that they don't get sick, but they can be killed, though it's very difficult. They can assume the forms of beautiful human beings but dissolve into mist. They have sex with mortal people while they sleep, and bit by bit they steal that person's soul and turn him or her into a kind of sexual slave.'

Ron and Harry stared at Hermione in horror.

'Merlin,' Ron said finally.

'Dumbledore hired...that?' said Harry at last.

'Yes,' said Hermione, 'he did. But it begs the question, how is she controlling herself? A succubus has an insatiable sexual appetite, she needs mortal victims to survive.'

Ron and Harry gulped.

'But since nobody in the school appears to be missing or acting strangely,' Hermione went on, 'perhaps she's found a way to control her urges. If so, it would be quite extraordinary. Then again, half the male population in this school would probably jump at the chance to be Hopkirk's sex toy.'

'I wouldn't,' said Harry and Ron together, exchanging disturbed looks.

'How did she become a demon?' Harry asked.

'She didn't become a demon,' said Hermione. 'She was born that way. Her mother...whoever she is...would have been impregnated by an incubus at some point.'

'At some point?' said Ron.

'Hopkirk is immortal,' said Hermione. 'Who knows how old she really is? For all we know her mother gave birth to her hundreds of years ago.'

There was a brief silence, and Hermione spoke again.

'This also adds to my theory about why Dumbledore hired her,' she said. 'Not just that he figured she knew things that could protect you--and the other students--but...consider, even without being a demon, Hopkirk's methods are dangerous. But she's a succubus, which puts the half the population of this school at risk. Dumbledore's taking an incredible risk in hiring her, and you can bet he knew what she was all along. At least that's the implication in those coded messages I've gone through so far.'

'What could she have been doing before, though?' Harry wondered. 'I mean...was she working for the Ministry?'

'If she was, the Ministry couldn't have known about her being a demon,' said Hermione. 'If you think the Ministry's treatment of house elves has been appalling, you should see their policy on demons. As far as the Ministry is concerned, the only good demon is a dead one. If they'd found out about her, she probably would have been killed. When Crouch took over the Aurors, he was convinced the demons were all in Voldemort's pocket. Well, most of them were, as demons are exactly the sort of creature Voldemort would want on his side, but there had to be a few who weren't. Like Hopkirk. But Crouch didn't make a distinction. During the first war, demons were hunted down and killed; Crouch was relentless. Hopkirk might well be one of the few of her kind left in Britain.'

'What about now?' said Harry. 'What's the Ministry's view now?'

'Not much has changed, at least where demons are concerned,' said Hermione. 'And I doubt it will change anytime soon. There's no getting around the fact that demons are inherently dangerous. Not evil so much as amoral. It's almost impossible for a succubus to escape her nature. Which is why Hopkirk is such a contradiction. I mean, according to Dumbledore, she went to school at Durmstrang. And at some point, she knew your mother; they might have even been friends. At least, that's what it looks like; why else would Hopkirk be so adamant against your mum using the blood protection spell? So Hopkirk has already managed to do two things most demons never truly accomplish: she's managed to function in society and to make a friend.'

Harry smirked. 'My mum had pretty weird taste in friends, then.'

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The three of them agreed, without any sort of discussion, to keep Hermione's revelations about Hopkirk quiet; Ginny would be the only one told. Ron and Harry decided to devote the Sunday following the Halloween ball to translating every code in their stacks; Hermione still had at least a few dozen more to go through before everything was said and done.

The week leading up to the ball was the busiest yet. The students and teachers were in high spirits this year. Harry couldn't quite reach that good mood, though; whereas the rest of the students looked at the relative peace and quiet in the world as a good sign, Harry and his friends knew better. They were all living on borrowed time at the moment; it was only a matter of time before Voldemort struck again. Yet, Harry couldn't fully avoid feeling calmer about things, and relieved, in fact, that he did have a partner to the Halloween ball, and one he knew he'd actually have fun with.

In the meantime, Ron kept meditating. On Tuesday night, he reported having another vision involving Death Eaters--he didn't know who they were--planning to attack Muggle villages in various parts of Wales; he reported the news to Professor McGonagall. On Friday, The Daily Prophet announced that the Welsh branch of the Ministry of Magic had indeed thwarted three separate attacks by Death Eaters, that several had been arrested and a few killed. Ron was whey-faced by the time Hermione finished reading the article aloud.

She looked up at him and beamed. 'You did it again, Ron.'

'Good show, Ron,' said Harry.

'It's...it's nothing,' Ron insisted, swallowing hard. Clearly, he still wasn't totally comfortable being a Seer, and with this second incident, there was no brushing off Ron's abilities as a fluke.

There was still no news, however, as to the whereabouts of Lucius Malfoy or Helene Rosier. Ginny and Ron were relieved, however, to be receiving regular, if short, messages from Charlie, who was now somewhere in the Czech Republic, supposedly working with a species of dragon heretofore thought of as extinct.

'As long as he keeps writing to us,' said Ginny, 'we know he's safe.'

By now Hermione's 'list' of all the various visions and dreams Ron had been having, the clues provided by the coded messages, and Harry's previous interactions with Voldemort had grown to such proportions that it took up six pieces of parchment and counting; indeed, Hermione had attached the parchment together to form not so much a list, but a map, a kind of elaborate flow-chart covered in various notes and scribbles that Harry and Ron could barely decipher. She tried to explain her many ideas, but it was beyond them both and in the end she gave up and told them she'd go over it again once she'd managed to narrow things down a bit.

'Or a lot,' Ron muttered.

If the teachers were in a relatively good mood, they didn't show it by going easy on the students. Homework and lessons were as difficult as ever. On Friday, Snape started them on Acromantula Venom Antidote. The process was quite grisly and involved essentially dissecting adolescent acromantulas and extracting liquids from various organs.

'Of course the venom is the primary ingredient, but as acromantula venom affects the central nervous system, brain fluid is needed as well,' said Snape, smiling viciously at Ron, who was swallowing very hard and looking like he was trying not to throw up. 'And the heart must be extracted and allowed to rot over the course of two weeks in order to produce the maggots which--oh, for heaven's sake. Miss Patil, would you please revive Miss Brown and tell her if she can't keep her head, I'll be happy to take house points.'

'Well, at least it's dead,' Harry said after Snape's lecture ended. He was trying to spin the lesson as positively as he could when he saw Ron go ashen at the sight of the platter sized dead spider lying across their table, with its many hairy legs splayed out and tacked to the surface.

'Right,' Ron croaked. 'It's dead. Very dead. I'm fine. No problem.'

In the end, it was Harry who did most of the cutting and extracting of the organs; Ron could hardly manage even to pluck some of the hairs from the beast's legs. The lesson ended and a green-faced Ron excused himself to go to the loo.

Fifteen minutes later Ron appeared at the Great Hall for lunch and announced he wasn't hungry, and that in fact, he might never eat again. That resolution lasted until dinner, when Ron ate his usual three helpings.

Transfiguration had progressed to turning humans into large inanimate objects; in Defence, they continued to work on physical defensive training, but Hopkirk announced that they would also be learning hand-to-hand combat, without wands. Vital for Auror training, she said (giving Harry and Ron pointed looks) and for survival in general. Harry watched Hopkirk intently, looking for other signs of her...condition, as he'd come to think of it. She tried to hide it, but Harry noticed the way she watched some of the boys--young men now--in the class, himself included. She could not fully mask the hungry look in her eyes. She had the habit of licking her lips, an erotic gesture that made Harry shudder with a mixture of arousal and horror every time he saw her do it. More than once he noticed her hands, the way she would run her right hand over her left arm like a lover's caress. They continued to work on throwing off the Imperius Curse, and there was no mistaking the look on Hopkirk's face when she placed the curse upon one of the boys; her eyes flashed and her lips curled into a kind of triumphant sneer as she worked her will on the male subject.

Yet, for all that she frightened and disgusted him there was no escaping the effect she had on Harry. Her beauty was impossible not to notice; the waves of heat, and her scent, so subtle that Harry hadn't noticed it until now, but once he did, he knew it at once: it was the scent of sex.

He found himself thinking of his usual catalogue of nasty images in order to squelch his feelings of arousal every time she came within a few feet of him. If this was what she was like when she controlled her urges, Harry didn't even want to imagine what she must be like when she gave into them. And Hermione said Hopkirk was assuming the form of a human woman. What, then, was her usual form? Did she have horns and a tail and sharp teeth and red eyes, like the pictures he'd seen in Aunt Marge's old Bible?

But for all this, Hopkirk was teaching him things, things he knew he would need. Defence Against the Dark Arts had turned into combat training, and the speed with which they were learning spells and curses and how to dodge those spells and curses--not just with counterspells but with the movement of their bodies--was useful, to say the least. Not even Bill had put the students through their paces like this.

Charms became physical that week, when Flitwick announced they would be doing self-levitating spells that allowed them to leap great distances. It was hard work and between that and Defence, every student in seventh year was nursing bumps and bruises and sore muscles, and more than a few had to go to the hospital wing to mend a sprain or a cut.

The Pygmy Spiketails had grown from thumb sized to the size of a small hand. Harry had to admit, they were endearing, but they didn't do much apart from eat, sleep and breathe puffs of smoke. Grubbly-Plank had them keeping 'progress journals' on the dragons' growth and eating habits, and though the lessons had become a bit dry, everyone was grateful for the reprieve from their tougher classes.

History of Magic was still stuck in centaur revolts, which Professor Binns made seem about as exciting as watching paint dry. Herbology was now focused on harvesting the acromantula hearts from Snape's lesson. This meant pounding the hearts until they were flat and then placing them in a solution of stinksap and seaweed. By the end of the week, Ron wasn't the only one who'd thrown up after class.

It was with some relief, then, that Saturday came. Harry had booked the pitch for a morning Quidditch practice, but everyone was so excited for the ball that they wound up accomplishing little more than passing a Quaffle around. It was only in the afternoon that Harry realized he hadn't given a thought to a costume.

'Go as Sid What's-His-Name,' Ron suggested, as they left the changing rooms and headed back toward the castle for lunch.

'Bad idea, Ron,' said Harry.

'Oh, right, sorry,' said Ron. 'Ex memories, right?'

Harry nodded.

'You could borrow my Cannons stuff,' Ron suggested later on, when Harry still hadn't figured out just what his costume should be.

'Your stuff doesn't fit me,' said Harry, groaning.

'That's what Shrinking Spells are for,' said Ron, in a tone that sounded very much like someone else.

Harry gave Ron a look. 'Thanks for that, Hermione,' he said.

'Shut up,' said Ron, blushing.

'Bugger,' said Harry. 'What are you wearing, anyway?'

Harry had been asking Ron this all week, but Ron, to Harry's great surprise, hadn't admitted anything yet.

'You'll see,' he grunted, which had become his stock response.

Three hours before the ball, Harry still didn't have a costume, he still didn't know what Ron was wearing, he hadn't seen Ginny since practice, and Hermione disappeared to get ready.

'I'm glad these things are only once a year,' said Ron. 'Three hours? What does she do for three hours?'

'Hey, Harry,' said Ginny, as she entered the common room two hours before the ball. Ron had gone to the Great Hall to supervise some of the prefects. 'What's up?'

'I don't have a costume,' said Harry, shrugging. 'Do you mind?'

'Harry, you have to have a costume, it's a Halloween ball,' said Ginny, folding her arms.

'What are you going as?'

'Queen Elizabeth the First,' said Ginny. 'I've got the right colouring, anyway. I learned all about her in Muggle Studies.'

'So, you're going as Queen Elizabeth,' said Harry. 'Great. Any ideas for me?'

Ginny eyed him for a moment. 'I might,' she said. 'Ron and Hermione are going as a royal couple, Hermione told me. We...could do that, if you want. I mean, it might make things easier,' she added, her cheeks going pink.

'I thought Queen Elizabeth was known as the Virgin Queen,' said Harry, and he blushed.

Ginny snorted. 'Yeah, right,' she said, and then she cleared her throat. 'Can I come up to your room?'

Harry blushed. 'Er...yeah.' She blushed, too, and looked at her feet for a moment.

'You know, we could go through your clothes and figure something out,' she mumbled.

'Right,' he said. 'So...let's go.'

They went up the stairs and entered the dormitory; Harry was relieved to find it empty. He wasn't sure he wanted to explain Ginny's presence to anyone, especially not Dean Thomas.

'So this is the boy's dormitory,' said Ginny.

'You've never been up here?' said Harry, surprised, and then he blushed again at the implications of what he said.

'Dean and I always...went other places,' said Ginny. Suddenly Harry half-wished there were other people in the room, if only to rid himself of the sudden flip-flopping in his stomach. Harry had hoped that his and Ginny's agreement not to date would have eased his attraction for her a bit. Clearly it hadn't, and judging by the way she was fidgeting, it hadn't for her, either. Then he felt it, a wave of emotion rolling off her. It floated over him and he knew she was as uncomfortable as he was, felt that she was torn between wanting to leave the room and wanting to stay.

'So...your clothes?' she said, her voice sounding a bit strained.

'Right,' said Harry, blinking, and he opened his chest of drawers as Ginny came up to stand next to him. He could smell vanilla on her skin, and he clenched his fists to keep from reaching out to touch her hair, which was loose and falling down her back in shiny copper waves.

She poked through jumpers and button down shirts and jeans and dress trousers.

'Hmm,' she murmured, and she pulled out a pair of black trousers, a blue jumper and his school tie. She took a deep breath and was suddenly all business. 'I think I could do something with these. And your dress robes. Do you mind going as Robert Devereux?'

'Who's that?' said Harry.

'One of Elizabeth's subjects,' said Ginny. 'She fell in love with him, but he hacked her off one too many times so she had him beheaded.' She grinned cheekily, and Harry felt another touch of emotion from her; she was trying to be light, trying to put a bit of distance between them. He felt disappointed, but he followed her lead and kept his own voice light.

'Ouch,' he said. 'Is that what you'll do to me if I make you angry tonight?'

'I might,' she said, putting her hands on her hips.

Harry grinned. 'Are you going to order me about, make me kiss your ring and stuff?'

Ginny scoffed. 'No, I'll leave the bossy female bit to Hermione.'

'Good idea,' said Harry.

'Speaking of which,' said Ginny, 'wait 'til you see what she's making Ron wear.'

'I've been trying to get that out of him all week,' said Harry. 'What is it?'

Ginny narrowed her eyes. 'I think I'll let you see for yourself. Just prepare to laugh.'

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

'Are you sure I don't look...effeminate?' Harry asked the mirror, as he tugged as his collar.

Ginny had transfigured his trousers into leggings, a pair of his shoes into leather boots that went over his knees, and his tie and blue jumper into a rich velvet tunic with crimson and gold silk embroidery. His dress robes she had charmed to appear as a crimson cape, which he wore draped over one shoulder. She had even charmed her broom to be a gleaming sword tucked inside a scabbard, which was attached to a rich leather belt that he had fastened round his waist. She'd dropped off the clothes in a rush and had hurried off to get herself ready.

'You look smashing, dear,' said the mirror. 'Very manly.'

Yeah, right, he thought. Didn't these Renaissance blokes ever hear of real trousers? Leggings, I ask you.

Well, the sword helps, and at least it's not a dress.

'You might ask your red-haired girlfriend to do something about your hair, though,' said the mirror. 'It's far too modern and...messy.'

'She's not my girlfriend,' said Harry quickly, but somehow, saying the words annoyed him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Harry found himself pacing. Ron and Hermione had gone to the Great Hall early to oversee the final preparations, so Harry still didn't know what their costumes were. Ginny was five minutes late.

What is it with girls; can't they ever be on time? Dramatic entrance my eye. They just like to keep blokes waiting, torture them a bit, make them wonder if they haven't changed their minds...

Harry heard a creaking on the girls' staircase and looked up, and he suddenly forgot how to breathe.

Ginny was descending the stairs, wearing a dress that by rights should have overwhelmed her, so full were the sleeves and massive the skirts, and yet it fit her perfectly, and it was ivory in colour, but threaded through with bits of pale gold satin. The bodice dipped low in the front, revealing a smooth expanse of creamy, freckled skin and the swell of her lush bosom; the collar of the dress was high in back and reminded Harry of an elaborate, golden spider's web. Her hair was pulled up in a complicated style, and there were pearls all along her hairline. Her skin was whiter than usual, and her lips were blood red. She looked almost like a ghost, alabaster and unearthly. But she was beautiful, stark and beautiful and Harry felt like his heart had stopped.

She reached the foot of the stairs and smiled shyly at him.

'Wow,' Harry breathed. 'That's...you look...really beautiful.'

Her cheeks--white as a pearl--went pink, and she smiled. 'Thanks,' she said. 'You look nice, too.'

'My mirror said my hair was messy,' said Harry, blushing. 'Maybe you could fix it, or something.'

'I like your hair the way it is,' said Ginny. She pressed her red lips together and took a deep breath, which caused her breasts to rise and fall. Harry tried not to look.

He looked.

'Shall we go?' said Ginny.

'What?' said Harry, blinking. 'Oh, right.'

That's smooth, Potter. Don't be obvious or anything.

I can't help it. They're right there and they look really, really nice.

He blinked again and offered her his arm, and they left the common room for the ball.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

'Wow, this place looks incredible,' said Ginny, as they entered the Great Hall. Small tables were set up everywhere. Jack-o'-lanterns floated in the air, and the Hogwarts ghosts floated about the room; the Fat Friar passed through Harry and gave him a chill, causing his body to jerk slightly.

'I hate when they do that,' he muttered. Ginny giggled softly.

'Hey, there's Ron,' said Ginny, pointing to a far corner of the room.

Harry followed her gaze and saw the tall redhead standing near the end of the High Table; he was surrounded. By girls.

Harry and Ginny exchanged looks.

'What's that about?' Harry asked.

'Oh, look, there's Colin,' said Ginny with a smirk. Colin had on some kind of loud zoot suit and was standing next to a very pretty girl wearing a flapper dress.

'That's Eloise Midgen?' said Harry.

'Not only is her acne all cleared up, she got her nose fixed,' said Ginny.

'I'm glad Colin's with her,' Harry blurted.

'You are?' said Ginny.

'Yeah,' said Harry, and he felt his neck get hot. 'That means you're my date. Er, partner.'

Ginny smiled and slipped her hand into his, and he felt tingles as her fingers intertwined with his.

'Harry, Ginny!' someone called. They looked up and saw Hermione striding toward them. Harry had to admit she looked quite lovely; like Ginny, she also wore an elaborate Renaissance dress, but hers was in a rich blue with blue and gold brocade; her hair had been tamed into submission with, Harry guessed, copious amounts of Sleakeazy Hair Potion, and put up into a style similar to Ginny's.

'Hi, Hermione,' said Ginny. 'Or perhaps I should say, hi Cousin.'

Hermione laughed shortly, but the laugh didn't reach her eyes.

'Cousin?' Harry asked.

'Queen Elizabeth and Queen Mary were cousins,' Hermione explained. 'Mary was Queen of Scotland, you know that, and Elizabeth eventually had her beheaded, for treason.'

Harry gave Ginny a look. 'Elizabeth was pretty bloodthirsty, wasn't she?'

'It's not her fault she had enemies,' Ginny said loftily, smiling at Hermione, but Hermione looked very annoyed about something. Judging by where Hermione's eyes were now fixed, that something was Ron.

'What's up, Hermione?' Harry asked.

'Honestly,' she huffed. 'Look at them, like a swarm of insects. They haven't left him alone from the moment we arrived.'

Harry and Ginny exchanged another glance and grinned. By now, several more girls had joined the crowd surrounding Ron; they were mostly younger, by the look of them. They had so thoroughly circled him that Harry couldn't see what Ron was wearing; only that it was blue and some sort of elaborate jacket.

'Well, he is Head Boy, Hermione,' said Ginny. 'He's got to...mingle a bit.'

Hermione snorted. 'That's not mingling, that's...holding court. Over a harem, or something!'

'He's not the only one,' said Ginny, nodding in a different direction. 'Since when did Ernie MacMillan get a fan club?'

Harry and Hermione looked over to see Ernie MacMillan also surrounded by a passel of girls; not as numerous as Ron's crowd, but enough that Hannah Abbott looked very disgruntled as she followed behind him.

'Oh!' said Hermione furiously, drawing Harry's attention away from Ernie and back to Ron. 'That's it, this has gone too far.' She stormed off in the direction of Ron and Harry saw what she meant; two of the girls were grabbing onto Ron's hands and giving him rather adoring looks By now, Ron no longer looked bemused by the female attention, but a bit scared. Hermione appeared a moment later. She grabbed Ron's right arm away from a fourth year Ravenclaw girl's, said something sharp, and dragged Ron out of the pile of girls, all of whom looked daggers at her.

Extricating themselves from Ron's new female fan club, he and Hermione headed over to a table and Harry finally got a look at Ron's costume. He almost laughed, but then he saw the group of girls all ogling Ron.

'He's wearing a bloody skirt,' said Harry. 'And those girls...'

'Look like they want to attack him,' said Ginny dryly. 'Don't ask me what that's about. I mean, this is my brother. Not like he's handsome or anything.'

'Ernie's wearing one, too!' Harry said, nodding in Ernie's direction; the girls had moved off, and he and Hannah were engaged in a conversation that involved Hannah gesticulating furiously and Ernie putting his hands up as if to soothe her.

'Looks like Weasley and MacMillan have fan clubs,' said a voice. Harry and Ginny turned to see Seamus Finnigan, wearing a simple 1920s suit and carrying a bowler hat.

'What's that about?' said Harry. 'They're wearing skirts and the girls are going mad.'

'I know,' said Seamus. 'Girls go mad for a man in a kilt. If I didn't think it would hack Lavender off, I'd wear one meself.'

'Who are you supposed to be?' Ginny asked.

'Michael Collins,' said Seamus. 'Lemme guess. Queen Elizabeth and one of her consorts.'

Harry and Ginny blushed and exchanged glances.

'Close enough,' said Ginny.

'Good lord, there's the Slytherins,' said Seamus.

Harry glanced across the room and saw a pack of Slytherin seventh years. Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson were standing apart from them; Draco wore the black dress robes that made him look like a vicar, but neither he nor Pansy appeared to have bothered with actual costumes. Daphne appeared to be dressed as Queen Victoria--and she looked lovely--but Harry couldn't make out the other Slytherins' costumes. Theodore Nott held court with Crabbe and Goyle; Goyle had Millicent as a partner; Nott was with a nervous sixth year Slytherin Harry didn't know; Crabbe also had a sixth year on his arm.

It was then that Harry's eyes met Malfoy's; Malfoy's lip curled into a sneer, but then he turned his gaze to Ginny, and his expression changed at once. Longing, but wolfish. He turned back to Harry and sneered again.

Ginny didn't seem to notice Malfoy's glare. Harry turned to her.

'Let's go join Ron and Hermione, shall we?'

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

'If you're going to spend the whole ball hanging around those girls--'

'It was your idea for me to wear this get-up!'

'I didn't know it would make you act like a...like a lothario!'

'A what?'

'A pig, Ron Weasley!'

'Oh, I'm acting like a pig? Just because I'm being friendly?'

'Friendly? That wasn't friendly, that was flirting!'

Harry and Ginny groaned and exchanged looks with Neville and Luna (who were dressed as Merlin and Morgan Le Fey, respectively). Dinner and pudding had come and gone, and now the four of them were counting the seconds until the music started, and they could find an excuse to escape the table.

'Are they like this all the time?' Neville muttered.

Harry smirked. 'Well, not all the time, but this is pretty normal.'

'I'd suggest switching tables,' Ginny said in a low voice, 'but there's nowhere to go now.'

'They'll work it out,' said Luna dreamily. 'They always do.'

'I am not jealous, Ron!'

'Oh yeah, you're just thrilled that those other girls were talking to me.'

'Talking? Is that what they were doing when they were hanging all over you like a cheap suit?'

Harry put his head in his hands and was just about to say something when the music started up. Lee Jordan had come back to deejay the ball (the Weird Sisters were on hiatus after the bassist Donaghan Tremlett's wife had a baby). Lee chose a slow tune to start up the dancing.

'Come on, let's dance,' said Ginny quickly, grabbing Harry's hand. Neville and Luna immediately followed suit, leaving Ron and Hermione huffing at one another.

Harry nervously put one hand on her waist and took her hand with his other. She rested her free hand on his shoulder, and they began to dance. Well, it wasn't dancing so much as swaying, and it was a bit awkward, and for a good thirty seconds neither of them said a word or even looked at one another, although Harry found himself stealing glances at Ginny's lips, her hair, her cleavage...

At that moment, Neville and Luna glided by.

'Looks like they've made up,' he said, nodding past Harry and Ginny.

Harry turned to see Ron and Hermione on the dance floor; her head was resting on his chest and their arms were round each other; they looked as though they thought they were the only ones in the room.

'That was a quick row,' said Ginny.

'They've got it down to a science at this point,' said Harry.

'If those two weren't so mad for each other they might have killed each other by now,' said Ginny, smiling.

'They still might,' said Harry.

'No, they won't,' said Ginny. 'It's like Mum and Dad reborn, really.'

'You noticed that, too?' said Harry.

They both laughed, and kept on dancing, and by the end of the song, she was very close to him; he could feel her breath on his face, and the hand on her back had crept up, and then back down, and their intertwined fingers where their free hands were joined were resting on his chest.

She licked her red lips and Harry felt his whole body tingle and tighten and he realized he very badly wanted to kiss her, their no-dating agreement be damned, when suddenly the music changed and a driving, fast tune came on.

'Oh,' said Ginny, flushing, 'do you want to keep dancing?'

'I'm not really any good,' said Harry.

'It's okay,' said Ginny, 'I'm not either.'

Harry nodded; he didn't really want to dance. He suddenly wanted to leave, with her, and find one of those rosebushes that students hid in, and kiss her until neither of them could breathe. Then he felt her emotions, he always felt them when she was touching him, and he knew she wanted the same thing, to leave the ball and be alone with him, but a part of her held back, a part of her resisted. He knew she was scared, he knew she didn't want a repeat of the first time they'd kissed, when it had ended with his scar burning and her body hurting from the contact. He didn't want that either, and yet...

He felt her tug on his hands and they started to dance; she was more graceful than she had let on, and he was as clumsy as he'd admitted himself to be, but he gave himself over to the dancing, if only to keep his mind off what he really wanted to do with her. It worked only up to a point.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Two hours later the ball was in full swing, and Harry was quite sure he'd had a few glasses of spiked punch, judging by the warm, happy, slightly loopy mood he was in. He wondered if Hermione would have kittens about the spiked punch, but he noticed she had avoided it and was drinking only water.

Most of the teachers were there, un-costumed, but in dress robes. Snape scowled through most of the evening, drinking no punch at all. Professor McGonagall didn't wear a costume, but had decorated her hat with an ugly wreath of miniature jack-o'-lanterns. Grubbly-Plank was engaged in a rousing conversation with Sprout; both were smoking pipes and guffawing about something, and Harry swore he saw the two women passing a flask back and forth. Harry stopped looking at them, because doing so reminded him that Hagrid was still away, doing some mission for the Order that nobody knew about. Professor Sinistra sat next to Snape; now and again, they would talk in a stiff, formal way. Professor Vector was trying to find a graceful way to stop conversing with Professor Binns, who appeared to be talking her ear off about something that was nearly putting her to sleep. Harry noticed the Dumbledore wasn't there, and this bothered him somewhat, but then he figured perhaps the former Headmaster had decided to retire early.

That must be it, he's old, he's tired, he needs his rest.

The other noted absence was that of Professor Hopkirk. Harry couldn't help but feel relieved. Her presence was unsettling enough in a classroom setting. He couldn't imagine how she would be in a social circumstance.

He and Ginny took a break from dancing and sat outside in the cold, sharp night air, hoping to cool themselves off. They stayed out long enough for Harry to notice the way the creamy skin of Ginny's bosom was now flushed with exertion, and then they went inside, but he was delighted when she slid her hand into his and their fingers intertwined. He was having a good time, a great time, and as the evening had gone on he had felt it--something was happening between him and Ginny, something he couldn't define, but he knew before the evening was over that things would be different between them, and in a good way. He had felt her emotions all evening, and he'd felt her relaxing, felt her relief that touching him hadn't so far caused any flashes of pain for either of them.

He talked briefly with Lee Jordan, who informed him that business at the joke shop was doing so well that he and the Weasley twins were moving into a bigger flat. He danced with Hermione and Luna, and Ginny danced with Ron and Neville (who was still trodding on feet), but for most of the night, Harry and Ginny were together. At some point in the evening Ron and Hermione disappeared for a while and then came back, looking slightly dishevelled but very happy about something.

The one blight on the evening was Malfoy, who seemed determined to turn staring at Ginny into something of an art. When he danced with Pansy, he stared at Ginny over the other girl's shoulder. When he sat down with Pansy, his eyes fell on Ginny. Ginny noticed, but ignored it so fiercely, that when she took Harry's hands in her own, he managed to ignore it, too. That was Ginny's power, to drive out the unpleasant feelings in his mind. Only now, it didn't seem to be hurting her anymore.

They danced some more, and talked a lot. She made him laugh, and she listened.

What was I thinking, messing about with Daphne and Parvati, when there's Ginny?

Before he knew it the evening was winding down, and it was getting close to midnight. Harry couldn't remember having quite so good a time at a ball. Not even last year with Susan had been so much fun.

It shouldn't have surprised him that everything would come crashing down.

Lee Jordan was playing the last song of the evening. By now, the Great Hall was almost empty, and only couples remained, dancing listlessly to a slow tune. Most of the students had given up and gone to bed, some to sleep off the effects of spiked punch. The only people left were Padma and Anthony, Neville and Luna, and Malfoy and Pansy; Malfoy hadn't stopped gazing longingly at Ginny, but if Pansy noticed, she didn't let on. Harry and Ginny ignored him, and they didn't so much dance as hold onto each other; he wanted so badly to kiss her, and she knew it. But he didn't, not with Ron in the room, not here. And yet, neither of them could seem to find the will to move, either, to go somewhere private.

Nonetheless, Harry's hand moved up and down Ginny's back, and her fingers played idly with the hair at the nape of his neck, sending shivers up and down his spine, and he felt her breath on his skin, and he was about to whisper something to her, to tell her something important, that he needed to talk to her, to find out what was going on between them, that he wanted to kiss her, when he heard a gasp, followed by a crash.

Harry and Ginny broke apart to see the cause of the commotion.

'Ron!' Hermione cried, and Harry's eyes widened to see Ron on his knees, bent over and clutching his head.

Oh, shit, he's having a vision...

He and Ginny rushed over to Ron's side; Hermione was on her knees as well.

'Ron,' Harry muttered, gripping the taller boy's shoulder, but Ron was shaking and his eyes were shut and he didn't seem to hear anyone. Harry looked up and saw Malfoy and Pansy watching the proceedings; Pansy looked particularly frightened and clutched at Malfoy's arm.

'What's happening?' Neville asked.

Harry gave him a look and shook his head; he couldn't say it out loud, not with Padma, Anthony, Pansy and Malfoy in the room. By now, Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape had hurried over as well.

'Stand back,' McGonagall barked, and the two Ravenclaws and the two Slytherins backed away, but Malfoy positioned himself to get a clear view of Ron, who had opened his eyes and was now panting and sweating and trying to swallow.

'What is it Weasley?' she asked urgently.

Ron looked up at her, and his eyes were slightly glazed but full of fear. He didn't speak, but it looked like he didn't even need to.

'Right,' said McGonagall at once. 'Let's get you to the hospital wing, then.'

'What's wrong with him?' Pansy asked, and the usual sneer in her voice was nowhere to be found.

'Nothing that Madam Pomfrey can't fix,' said McGonagall firmly, fixing Pansy with a stern look that said 'don't ask questions.' She turned to Snape.

'Severus, if you would be so kind as to escort your students back to Slytherin,' she said.

'Of course, Headmistress,' said Snape, nodding, and then he turned to Draco and Pansy.

'Malfoy, Miss Parkinson,' he snapped. 'Come with me.'

Malfoy and Pansy obeyed, but as they left, Draco passed his eyes over Ginny once more, before locking them first on Ron, who was dragging himself up with the help of Hermione and McGonagall, and then on Harry. Draco smirked before turning in a swirl of black dress robes and following Snape from the room. Two Aurors went after them.

'Filius, would you--'

'Of course, Minerva,' said Professor Flitwick, and he nodded to Padma, Anthony and Luna and gestured for them to follow him back to Ravenclaw. Another two Aurors left.

Once they were out of the room, and the only people left were McGonagall, Harry, Ginny, Ron, Hermione and Neville, and the remaining Aurors, who hung back against the far walls of the Great Hall.

Then McGonagall spoke to Ron. 'What happened, Weasley?'

'Something's going to happen,' he rasped. 'Hermione, your parents...and Dean's...and Justin's...'

Hermione blanched. Harry felt Ginny clutch his arm.

McGonagall took a sharp breath, but kept her voice steady. 'Are you all right to walk, Weasley?'

Ron nodded.

'We're going to Dumbledore's office,' she said.

She started to lead them out. Hermione was shaking now, and she and Ron were practically holding one another up. Nobody said a word; nobody could speak.

Harry felt himself put his arm around Ginny and followed them out.

It's okay. Ron's had visions before. We'll tell Dumbledore, and he'll get the word out, and everything will be fine. Everything will be fine.

But as they left the Great Hall, Harry felt a sudden sting in his scar, and he heard Voldemort raging inside his mind.

'Harry,' Ginny whispered. 'What is it?'

She feels it, too.

'Nothing,' Harry lied. 'It's nothing.'

But when he looked into her eyes, he knew that she knew he was lying. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong, and Harry wondered if Ron's vision had come in time.