Rating:: PG-13
House:: Schnoogle
Characters:: Harry Potter Hermione Granger Ron Weasley Remus Lupin Sirius Black
Genres:: Action Drama
Era:: Multiple Eras
Spoilers:: Philosopher's Stone Chamber of Secrets Prizoner of Azkaban Goblet of Fire
Stats:: Published: 03/12/2003

Updated: 06/18/2004

Words: 105,717

Chapters: 17

Hits: 25,132

Harry Potter and the Dark Mark

venus

Story Summary:: The sequel to Harry Potter and the Heir of Gryffindor. In Harry's 6th year, the Wizarding world is in bedlam: the dark movement is on the rise with a streak of senseless murders one after the other after the other. Harry's quest to stop the terror leads to the revelation of ancient secrets, re-visiting the past , and some old scores are *finally* settled!

Chapter 09

Chapter Summary:: In Harry’s 6th year, the Wizarding world is in bedlam: the dark movement is on the rise with a streak of senseless murders one after the other after the other. Harry’s quest to stop the terror leads to the revelation of ancient secrets, re-visiting the past, and some old scores are *finally* settled!

Posted:: 05/29/2003

Hits:: 1,008

Chapter Nine : Yuletide

Harry struggled against the relentless morning sun that pounded upon his face. He was determined to win against it and kept his eyes shut tight, pulling his covers close overtop his slightly shivering body. It was freezing in the dorms that morning! He sighed happily, reveling in the warmth and softness of the sheets and blankets when wham! The covers were yanked forcefully from him, the cold air of the dorms rushing in on him as though he'd jumped into a freezing lake.

"Oy! Ron! What're you playin' at?" He sat up with a start, ready to punch Ron right in the jaw. He reached for his glasses and then promptly lowered his fist when he was met with two big smiling brown eyes.

Sophie was kneeling next to him, laughing. "Well someone isn't a morning person!"

It took him a good couple of moments to understand what was happening. What was Sophie doing in his dorms? But . . . these weren't his dorms . . . it was . . . the astronomy tower?

"Sophie, what--"

"We fell asleep last night. And you were shaking from the cold so I decided to give you a little help."

Harry looked around him and found he was sitting on a virtual sea of fluffy white blankets in the midst of the cold stone chamber. He looked back at her and couldn't help but smile. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it."

He was surprised at how pretty she looked sitting there with the early morning sunlight highlighting streaks of gold and cinnamon in her warm brown hair that he hadn't noticed before. Sophie dropped her gaze to the floor--embarrassed by his staring.

"And. . ." she said, looking like she was fighting back a giggle, "I must admit, you're the first boy I've met who's so. . . comfortable wearing candy-cane socks."

"Sorry?" Harry's thoughts were interrupted by this remark, and he looked down at his outstretched feet: his left shoe was kicked off revealing his red and white striped socks.

The blushing came quickly and relentlessly.

"I. . . don't actually remember where they came from . . ."

"One of Santa's Helpers, I should think."

He shook his head and, before he could think twice, he'd ripped his sock off and tossed it at her face. She screeched and fell backwards, pretending to gasp for air.

"Oh ha-ha, very funny," he said, watching as she hoisted herself up and dramatically threw herself at the tower window, sticking her head out and inhaling deeply.

"Can't . . . breathe . . ."

"Why you little mad alec," he said, although he was laughing as well, and joined her at the window. The air was fiercely cold, but he didn't mind it--not with her so near to him.

"What time is it, do you reckon?" she asked, calming down and leaning her weight against him.

"Hmm. . .still early. Look--Hagrid hasn't even started his morning fire yet."

"Oh yeah, you're right . . . dear Hagrid. Such a sweet bloke. We had a great time yesterday when I got here. He took me on a tour of the grounds. Again."

"Bless him."

She laughed. "Yes. . .he's one of the few genuinely kind people that I've ever met." She paused and smiled at him, "One of the few."

Harry shook his head. "Right. Well, you haven't seen my temper."

"Mmm. I'm sure it's terrifying."

"You'd be surprised."

"Oh I think I have a pretty good idea--I mean, throwing dodgy old socks at this hour? I shudder to think what's next."

"You just keep pushing it, and you'll find out soon enough."

She laughed--loudly this time, and Harry joined her. He was holding her closely and Sophie looked up into his eyes. He held her stare, reveling in it, and then. . . suddenly turned her gaze downward.

Harry leaned forward, almost certain that he saw something glisten in her eyes. . .

"Sophie . . . are you crying?"

"No I just . . ." she sighed. "I hate not knowing how to say something. . ."

He nodded. "I know what you mean. I'm not the greatest either at, you know, expressing how I feel and all that."

Sophie nodded. "Yeah-- I'm sure eleven years of living in a cupboard can do that to you."

Harry laughed softly. "Well . . . whatever it is. . . you don't have to say it now. We have time. You'll be able to say it when you're ready."

She nodded and closed her eyes--Harry definitely seeing a tear forming, slowly creeping its way down her face.

"Hey," he said, reaching to her face and wiping it away with his thumb, "are you all right?"

"I'm fine . . ." she opened her eyes, which were now red and threatening more tears. "I . . . just love you so much and I don't want to see you hurt. . . by me or anyone else."

He froze. There was that word . . . love . . .

He was staring at her, wishing her tears would stop and she would be happy again.

"I know what you're thinking, I know, how can a sixteen year old girl think she's in love, how silly--"

"I didn't think--"

"really, I mean, what do I know about anything, least of all love. It's sounds so silly, I know, but . . . I also know how I feel . . ."

"No," he said, "please don't apologize. . ." he wanted to tell her the same thing. That he loved her too, but . . . it was such a frightening word. "And please don't cry. No one is going to hurt me, all right?"

"But you don't understand, I. . ."

"That's enough," he said quietly, but forcefully. Enough so that she knew there would be nothing more said on the subject.

Sophie nodded and wiped her eyes. "Sorry, Harry. I didn't mean to get all dramatic on you."

"You? Dramatic? Never."

She laughed and socked his arm playfully. "Well! Perhaps we'd best start back now? I mean. . . don't you think Professor Sinistra should be coming up pretty soon?"

"It's a Sunday morning. No one in the castle is up this early. Except of course for Snape. But then again, I don't think he ever sleeps anyway."

Sophie smirked. "Don't reckon we have to worry about him in the Astronomy Tower..." she paused dramatically and raised her brows, "Or do we?"

Harry closed his eyes. "I don't even want to begin to get that mental image, Sophie."

She dragged her fingers along the wall and walked slowly towards the other end of the chamber. "Cor, Harry, I hadn't any idea Professor Sinistra was such a pack rat! When I get her class work every week, hers is the most organized and understandable."

"Well, everyone has their faults."

She paused and looked back up at him. "That's too true."

She took a breath as though she wanted going to add something else, but her attention was caught by something in the corner of the room. It was a large wire cage and she inched closer to it, Harry coming to her side, equally as interested in the cage. It housed a slumbering owl-like bird with pure white hair. Harry thought it looked very much like Hedwig until he got closer and saw that it had the long, bright, multicolored tail of a Toucan!

"Would you look at that," he said, intrigued.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" said Sophie.

"Gorgeous." He reached out to gently feel its fur when its eyes shot open and let out a squawk that surprised Harry and made him stumble backwards.

"Sqwak! What're you playin' at?"

Harry was slightly stunned by the bird talking back to him, but quickly made his apologies. "Sorry, didn't meant to wake you, I just wanted to see your feathers more closely."

"Sqwak! Well someone isn't a morning person!"

"I didn't mean to be rude, I just . . ."

"Harry," said Sophie softly, "I think that--"

"--Sqwak! You were shaking from the cold so I decided to give you some help--"

"--it's a mimic bird," she finished.

Harry removed his glasses to clean them with his shirtsleeve, wanting a better look at the bird. "Wow. . . I didn't know Sinistra had one of these. Guess it's her pet."

She laughed, "I bet that you probably watch what you say in her class with someone like this listening to every word!"

Harry's tried to smile, but couldn't. Had he heard something? A very distant, faint clicking sound. Almost like the sound of heeled shoes on stone.

The hair on Harry's neck stood up on edge. "Shhh," he said.

Sophie was trying to read his expression. "What is it? What's wrong?"

"Get rid of those blankets now!"

"Why--"

"Someone's coming!"

Sophie whipped out her wand and whispered "Deletius!"

The blankets vanished and so did they as Harry wrapped the invisibility cloak about them just as the chamber door swung open. To Harry's horror in walked a very intense looking Severus Snape, followed closely by Professor Sinistra and Arabella Figg.

"Now are you happy, Severus? There's no one in here."

"Professor Sinistra, I will repeat what I said earlier and that is that I saw two figures in the window while I was walking the grounds!"

"Of course you did," said Arabella Figg. "Everyone sees figures in windows here. They're called ghosts."

This didn't sway him. "And one of them most definitely had black hair."

"You have a very vivid imagination," said an amused Professor Sinistra.

Arabella laughed, "My dear Mildred. Severus has been accused of many things in his lifetime, but never of possessing an imagination!"

Harry had to cover his mouth to keep from laughing.

"But seriously," Arabella continued, "even if there were two students in here, why should that matter? It isn't after hours. It's before hours, actually."

"Precisely. On a Sunday morning, students are never up at this hour. Someone already up here in the tower would be someone who spent the night here."

"Oh," said Sinistra, "is that what you're worried about? Dumbledore and I have fixed that problem."

"What problem?" asked Figg.

Professor Sinistra walked towards the mimic bird's cage and suddenly Harry went from alarmed at the situation to panicked.

"You see Arabella, for quite some time, the Astronomy Tower had become somewhat of a gathering place for those students who wished to study the finer points of, ah, shall we say, the human anatomy."

"Oh," she said softly. "I see."

"Yes. So Professor Dumbledore arranged for a resident. . . informant." She unlatched the birdcage and pulled out the bird.

"Ahhh," said Snape, a smile curling at his lips. "Very good. A mimic bird."

"Precisely," she ruffled his fur and the bird cooed happily. "Reginald remembers every human word that has passed by his ears, isn't that right Reggie?"

"Sqwak! Severus has been accused of many things in his lifetime, but never of possessing an imagination."

Figg and Sinistra laughed.

Snape remained sour faced. "Charming."

"Now Reggie, tell us what you've heard this morning. Any news?"

Sophie squeezed Harry's hand--he could feel her heart beating rapidly against his body. They stared intently at the bird, not breathing, waiting for it to give its judgment. . .

"Sqwak! I just love you so much and I don't want to see you hurt by me or anyone else."

Harry blanched.

Snape's eyes gleamed in triumph. "Ha! You see? I told you someone was in here! Who was it, Reggie?"

"Calm down, Severus, calm down. He needs time."

Sophie put her lips to Harry's ear and kept her voice as low as possible. "Harry . . . we have to get out of here. . ."

"I know. . ."

"Sqwak! I know what you're thinking, how silly of me to say that I love you. I'm only sixteen, I know, but I also know how I feel . . ." It was coming. Harry braced for it.

"Sqwak! I love you too, Pansy."

Pansy?

Harry and Sophie shared a look of shock.

Pansy?!?

Snape looked similarly surprised--he must have surely been expecting Harry's name to come up.

"Sqwak! But if Draco ever knew about this, Blaise!"

Harry's mouth fell! Pansy Parkinson was two-timing Draco Malfoy with Blaise Zabini!

"Sqwak! Don't worry about him! This is about you and me, love!"

Severus' pallor was turning into red. "That's enough, Mildred," he said gruffly.

Professor Sinistra looked thoroughly pleased. "Well, I do hope that answers your question. One of your own house, Severus."

Snape nodded, visibly consternated. Professor Sinistra placed the bird back in its cage and Harry and Sophie beamed at each other! He was so overcome with relief that he felt like his legs were going to give out from underneath him.

The Professors made their exit and Harry and Sophie were once again alone in the tower, still remaining perfectly still, amazed at their stroke of good luck. They took the cloak off, not able to speak, and looked at the bird.

It was staring at them, and then finally he spoke. "Sqwak. You two owe me one."

Safe within the invisibility cloak, Harry hurried towards the Gryffindor wing. He'd seen to Sophie's safe arrival in Professor McGonagall's chambers and scurried along the corridor, wondering what sort of smart-ass remark he was destined to receive from Ron. It was already half past nine and most of the students were already on their way down to breakfast.

He found an empty common room waiting for him save for Ron and Hermione. They were seated near the common room fire, which sputtered and crackled, and offered a calming backdrop for the twos who were deeply engrossed in a game of wizard's chess.

Harry removed his invisibility cloak and cleared his throat, announcing his presence.

Neither of them bothered to look up.

"Morning sleepyhead," said Ron as a bishop tossed one of Hermione's pawns off the board.

Harry sighed happily, leaning against the fireplace. "Beautiful morning, isn't it?"

"It's bloody freezing."

"Yes, but . . . still. Such beautiful cold."

"Why are you so cheerful today," said Hermione gruffly--she'd just lost a pawn to Ron's bishop.

Ron sniggered. "It starts with an "S" and ends with an "E". Use your imagination."

"Harry, tell me that you two didn't go sneaking around the castle after hours last night."

"Okay, I won't tell you that." He took a seat next to his friends.

Ron laughed. "He also won't tell you that he spent all last night in the Astronomy Tower."

Hermione froze. "What?"

Harry glared at Ron. "Thanks, Ron."

"You what?!?"

"Don't worry, Hermione, we accidentally fell asleep."

"You went out after hours--"

"I know, I know, but otherwise I wouldn't have had a chance to see her at all. It was an accident."

"And you didn't get caught?"

"Does it look like it?"

Hermione shook her head. "That's dangerous, Harry."

"Oh come off it. Like Ron wouldn't have done the same thing for you."

She stared at Ron. "Would you?"

"Er . . . your move."

She gruffly took her queen and moved it. "Sorry, Harry, I guess I'm just a little protective, that's all. I'm glad you two had a nice time--"

"CHECK MATE!"

Hermione looked on in horror as her queen was knocked off her throne by Ron's knight.

"I was distracted Ron--"

"Oh yeah, you've been distracted since your first play!"

They argued, quite vocally, actually, all the way down to the Great Hall. Harry was laughing at them, but was more involved in his own thoughts. Namely, Sophie.

The Great Hall was barely more than a quarter full since most of the students had finished their breakfasts already. Harry had expected to find the Gryffindors all in impeccable spirits after yesterday's Quidditch triumph, but was surprised to find them all rather subdued.

The three took their seats, alarm growing with every silent, passing moment. It was the same sort of consuming dread that Harry had felt too much of in recent months.

Oh no. Something is wrong. Something has happened . . .

"Ginny," said Ron slowly, "Ginny, what is it?"

Ginny was sitting next to Lavender Brown, her face nothing but worry. She wordlessly slid them The Daily Prophet.

"Oh no," said Hermione, "No!"

DARK MARK STRIKES STRATFORD - MUGGLE KILLED
STRATFORD-UPON-AVON- Death Eaters claimed another life yesterday in their ongoing terror streak. This time, the victim was a thirteen-year-old Muggle boy, William Weatherby Jr.; son of warlock William Weatherby, the retired Quidditch star of Chudley Cannon fame. Weatherby Jr., who attended a private Muggle school in Stratford-Upon-Avon, was taking his usual walk to school through the backwoods of the sprawling six acre Weatherby estate Friday morning, when he was apparently accosted by Dark Wizards and killed with the unforgivable Death Curse. The Ministry of Magic was at once aware of the situation and was swift to arrive at the tragic scene, finding the boys' dead body in a clearing.

Mr. Weatherby and his wife, also a Muggle, were on holiday in the Isle of Wight when they first received what Muggles term "a telephone call" on Mrs. Weatherby's "mobile telephone" from their son's school. The school was inquiring as to why Weatherby Jr. had not attended class that morning--something that had never happened with the boy before. Ministry Wizards appeared soon afterwards to explain the situation to the Weatherbys.

Mr. Weatherby made this statement late last evening regarding his son's murder: "I can only hope that an end to this horror is brought before anyone else has to suffer as my family and I are."

Muggle Friends and family of the Weatherby family gathered last night to hold a quiet vigil in William's honor. He will be remembered most for his quiet, pensive nature and for his love of family. There will be two memorial services held this Sunday: one at the Muggle Holy Trinity Church in Stratford-Upon-Avon, and the second will be a Wizarding service held at Willow Vale Mortuary.

"Bloody hell. William Weatherby's son. The bloody greatest Beater in The Chudley Canon's history! He is the reason that Fred and George and I even fell in love with the game in the first place, and his own son . . . bloody hell."

Harry couldn't have put it better himself and stared at the horrific words, wishing that not a word of it were true.

"This can't be happening," said Hermione. "It just can't be!"

Harry was lost in thought as the poured over the article again and again. For the fourth time in four months. . .

"She said nine."

"What, Harry?"

"Professor Trelawney-- the other night, remember? She said that they would strike nine times."

Hermione was enraged. "NINE? Do you realize she's saying that five more people are going to loose their lives? The Ministry can't let that happen! They can't let those innocent people die!"

Harry couldn't have agreed more, but at this point, it really didn't look like there was much the Ministry could really do about it.

It frustrated Harry to no end.

Harry knew the names of people behind the madness, but what use was it without proof? Maybe deep down Fudge really did believe Harry, but he wouldn't act on it.

"I wish Dumbledore was the Minister of Magic," said Ron. "He would have Malfoy in Azkaban along with all of his little friends."

Harry nodded sadly. His morning had been squashed by the news. And once again, it was because of Voldemort.

It was always because of Voldemort.

The week that ensued was a somber one. All of the students were badly shaken by the Muggle boy's murder. It cemented the fact that no one was safe from the destructive hand of Lord Voldemort.

Harry was suddenly most eager to pay attention in his Study in Reason class. For the little woman she was, Arabella Figg had a fiery voice and when she spoke she was determined to have everyone's attention.

"Will everyone please take out copy of A Study in Reason: Why Wizards Go Bad - by Sinbad de Mourier." She held up a thick green textbook and the rest of the students pulled out their copies.

She nodded. "Excellent. I have as of yet not referred to this textbook and thought it was about time we addressed it." She took the book and, to the class' horror, tossed the book in the rubbish bin.

She folded her arms and stood stoically. "That wastebasket is precisely where such archaic thinking belongs."

Harry's mouth fell. He turned to Seamus and Neville and they were similarly stunned. Lavender Brown looked mortified.

"I spent fifteen years of my life amongst Muggles and, as a Slytherin I can hardly believe what I am about to say, but. . . I learned some very valuable lessons from them. Mr. de Mourier's theory that evil wizards turn evil because it is in them since birth is ludicrous. Hatred and violence is not something a child is born with. Those are things a child is taught. The desire to do evil does not develop out of thin air, but there is a reason for it-- something Mr. de Mourier's misleading book does not address.

"There was a famous Muggle teenage girl who lived several decades ago who was a victim of the Muggle world's equivalent to the Wizarding world's dark movement-- something called the Third Reich. She said, 'In spite of everything, I still believe that people are really good at heart. I simply can't build up my hopes on a foundation consisting of confusion, misery and death.' Now I ask you: how could she say this about the people who, within weeks of writing those words, would put her to death?"

Neville Longbottom's hand rose.

"Because . . . well . . ." he was struggling and everyone waited eagerly for his response. "Because if you go through life thinking otherwise, then what's the point of even getting out of bed in the morning?"

Arabella was quiet for a moment and then beamed. "Mr. Longbottom, please add twenty points to Gryffindor. Now, that poses a very important questions: if this Muggle is right, then what makes a good Wizard go bad?"

No one answered.

"I will tell you. There is an incident, or perhaps several, that affects the person in such a way that is causes their heart to change. They feel hurt, they feel violated or injured in some way and whatever it is that caused it, leads to a change deep within. "It" is usually jealousy, or envy, or a severe injustice delivered to them. That seed is planted and then it is watered by a constant dwelling over it, as well as perhaps sympathy and empathy from others who might have that same seed planted in their heart."

"And of course, this demon weed of the heart is quick to infest and soon is completed covered by it." She paused. "Be warned if you think this sort of thing cannot happen to you. For many evil wizards begin life just as you and I. Beware of your passions!" She was whispering now, "beware of your vanity and your jealousy--they are shackles. They lead to a suffocating imprisonment of your heart."

Neither Harry nor the rest of the students realized that the class had ended. Usually the students would have had their satchels packed and running for the door, but instead they all sat without making a sound.

Professor Figg had to drop them a not-so-gentle hint to get out and make way for the next class and the students quietly obliged. Her words were swimming about in Harry's head--so much so he almost didn't notice her calling his name as he passed.

"Yes you, Harry. Might I have a word?"

He waved Ron and Hermione on who left hand in hand.

"Yeah?"

Mrs. Figg was staring at him with a curiously indecipherable expression. She reached into her robes, and pulled out a black hankie, which she proceeded to unfold, her eyes still not leaving Harry.

"I wanted to give this to you the other day, but the opportunity just never presented itself."

Harry gulped when he saw what lay in Arabella's palm: a single yuletide red and white striped sock. The sock that he'd chucked at Sophie. Most unmistakably (and unfortunately, incriminatingly so) his sock, as the monogram "HP" was embroidered at the top.

"Found it in the Astronomy tower, as a matter of fact. Thought you'd certainly need it--what with how drafty those dorms can be during the winter. How strange you should loose yours in the Astronomy tower of all places. I know that I can't think of any reason why you'd have left a sock behind in such a place. . . can you?"

Trapped. Not knowing what to say or do, he vigorously shook his head 'no' and decided to add 'haven't the faintest' just for good measure.

Arabella handed him the sock (which he took with slightly trembling hands) and folded her arms. "Well, Mr. Potter, do try harder to keep your clothing with you at all times--especially when in the Astronomy Tower. I mean. . . after all, it isn't typically a place where one should misplace their clothing. Isn't that right, Harry?"

"No Professor. I mean, yes Professor, of course you're right. Of course."

Arabella appeared quite pleased and motioned for the door. "That is all."

He clumsily thanked her for delivering his sock again and hurried for the door, not daring to look back at her. Then again he didn't have to: he was certain she was still sporting that smile.

Christmas was in the air.

Everywhere Harry turned were gentle, welcome reminders that his favorite time of year was nigh. Homework was intensifying as the winter approached--if such a thing were at all possible. And while Harry seriously doubted the chance of him making it through the academic year alive, there was one class that, not only did he enjoy, but also he found relatively easy.

Apparition classes were going strong. Hermione studied incessantly-- it was excessive even for Hermione! Harry put a lot into the class as well, but he could sense that it irritated Hermione that he was better in class and did not have to do half the work she did. On the last Apparition class before the Christmas holidays, Ariah Warwick took Harry aside privately.

"Harry, dear, have you given any thought to perhaps taking the Apparition Exam in March?"

Harry was stunned. "What? But minors aren't allowed to take the test--"

Ariah winked. "As a rule, yes. But you know how the Ministry is with rules. If an instructor sees the potential in a students, then why not? There is no reason to deny the student if he is able!"

"But I'm not--"

"You most certainly are, my dear. I would not have mentioned it otherwise. That rule is in place because, well, quite plainly, teenagers do not possess the skills or talent required to perform such a difficult task as apparition. And many wizards my age still are not able to do it." Her eyes were sparkling. "But you? Well-- you're rather exceptional, Harry."

Harry's gaze fell to the floor and he wished she would stop staring at him so.

"I'm sorry, love, I didn't mean to embarrass you." She stood up tall and straightened her robes. "I've just been wanting to tell you that for quite some time."

"Thank you, Professor," he said quietly, still staring at the floor.

"Harry?"

He looked up.

"If I promise not to embarrass you again, will you consider taking the exam?"

She was waiting-- hoping, really. And deep down, the idea truly did excite Harry.

He nodded. "Yeah, I'll think about it."

"That's a bargain. Now, I've kept you long enough. Go on then, get going! And have a Happy Christmas!"

"You too, Professor."

The excitement in the hallways during that last week of school was electrifying! Snape had his hands full taking points from the students as they'd all apparently forgotten the rule no magic in the hallways! For there were frequent, surprise bursts of greens and reds-- silly, first year pranks that left the hall stinking of sulfur or turned a Professor's robes bright pink.

Aside from the fact that Christmas was right around the corner, there were two other reasons for the high spirits. One was that Sophie Banbury had sent invitations to her annual Christmas Bash! There was a mad dash amongst the Gryffindors to get a date for what had become the social event of the season. There seemed to be more Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs who were invited this year and Harry had to wonder just how Sophie was planning to fit everyone in their home.

He was also taken aback by a most unexpected surprise-- six of them, as a matter of fact.

It started the week that Sophie's invitations arrived. He had just finished showering off after a particularly grueling quidditch practice and was finally starting on his walk back towards school grounds when a waifish, bob-cut blonde came running up behind him. Harry vaguely recognized her as an Hufflepuff fourth year. Her cheeks were flushed and she was somewhat winded from the run, but nevertheless managed to render Harry speechless when she asked him if he had a date for the Banbury Christmas Bash. Harry was able to stammer out a somewhat decent reply, confirming that he did indeed have a partner, and the blonde left, decidedly deflated.

The offers only became more insistent as the week passed.

The last straw came on a Wednesday after Care of Magical Creatures with the Ravenclaws. Four different girls had cornered Harry earlier that week to ask him the big question, and this time it was a rather voluptuous black-haired Ravenclaw fifth year that gave Harry's robes the tug at the shoulder. He gave her his rehearsed response ("Oh! I'm so sorry, but I've already made plans") but this time it seemed to fly right over her head.

"You can cancel them," she said in a serious voice, "I'll wait."

Harry blinked. "Er-- no, you see, they're plans that I actually want to keep. I'm flattered that you've asked--"

"Good, then we'll meet at the party or shall I meet at your house first?"

"N-no, you don't seem to understand, I'm already--"

"Oh that's all right, we'll just meet at the party. Eight o'clock, right?"

"Right-- NO!" His patience was waning, "Now listen: It's very kind of you to ask me to the party, but I am already going with someone and I cannot do anything about that. So please--"

"--Bugger off, eh?"

Ron and Hermione had caught up with Harry and Ron was staring down the brunette who recoiled under his gaze, her face twisted in astonishment.

"Ron!" Harry cried. He hadn't wanted to offend the girl, but still, Ron didn't have to talk to her that way! The girl, however, got the hint and quickly scurried away.

The smack on Ron's arm from Hermione showed she didn't like what he'd done either. "Could've been a bit more couth, wouldn't you say, Ronald?"

Ron shook his head. "Nah. That's the only way to deal with 'em, Harry. Being nice to girls is the same thing as telling them you're interested. Which, I'm sure, Sophie wouldn't be too happy with."

Harry was still frowning as they walked briskly through the freezing December air. "I don't get it," said Harry, shaking his head. "I don't even know these girls. I don't remember even seeing them before. Why on earth would they all want to ask me to go with them to the party."

Hermione let go of a laugh that caught Harry by surprise. He stopped walking and waited, irritated, as Hermione finished her spell of wheezing.

"Care to let me in on the joke, Hermione?"

She sighed. "Harry, Harry, come off it. Don't pretend you don't know--"

"Know what?"

"Sometimes I wonder about you. Are you honestly this naive?" She cleared her throat and gave him her full attention, crossing her arms. "Haven't you ever been on the second floor during lunch?"

"The second floor?"

"Yeah, to the library."

"Why?"

"Then you really don't know that in the back of the library there is a weekly meeting of the I Love Harry Potter Fan Club?"

Ron let out a delighted howl of laughter.

Harry's stomach lurched. "That's not funny, Hermione--"

"I'm not taking the mick! So help me, it's true!"

Yes, Harry most definitely was feeling ill. "But-- but why?" "Because! They're all taken with you, Harry." There was devious glint in her eye, and she was trying to suppress her laughter. "They think you're dreamy--"

"I've never heard a bigger load of rubbish."

"-- and valiant and heroic and sweet, oh, they love that part the most--"

"Just who are they?"

"The Hufflepuffs-- and a fair share of Gryffindors and Ravenclaws. Not all of 'em first years, either! I've seen a few fifth years in there."

"Please tell me that my sister has nothing to do with this," said Ron.

"No, she doesn't. In fact, she thinks the club is absolutely ridiculous." Hermione sniggered. "Some Hufflepuff third year called Lydia Hultzapple and that first year Gryffindor Vera Zaent started it up. I heard that after Halloween the girls cried for the entire lunch period when they heard that you and Sophie Banbury were an item."

"That's silly."

"Well, they are Hufflepuffs. Gotta give 'em credit for even asking you out. I wouldn't have thought they had it in 'em!"

"I'm going to put a stop to this--"

"Oh, come on Harry," said Ron bemusedly. "Let them have their fun. Don't worry!" He squeezed his shoulder supportively. "They'll get over you."

As for the second reason for the soaring spirits amongst the students?

Slytherin has been defeated in the crucial pre-holiday game against Ravenclaw-- a defeat that put Slytherin house in the doghouse! One more defeat and they would be out of the running for the quidditch cup! Of course, the Slytherins gave no evidence that this at all phased them. They walked about the campus, upturned noses on them all, eyeing down all the other Houses.

As the students bustled along towards the potions chamber on the last day of class before winter recess, there was an unexpected eruption of noise. To say that the Gryffindors were rendered speechless when they found Pansy Parkinson and her band of sixth year cronies singing Christmas Carols, is a gross understatement. Granted, they weren't the traditional yuletide carols, to be sure, but the improvised lyrics on the Slytherin's behalf were even more stupefying:

"Deck the halls with Slyth'rin pride
fa la la la la la la la la!
Watch the Houses run and hide
fa la la la la la la la la!
O how joy-ous if the year starts
fa la la la la la la la la!
With the Mud-bloods out of Hog-warts!
fa la la la la la la la la!"

The Gryffindors saw through this as a desperate attempt to keep their egos inflated. It had no effect on the Gryffindors who still walked with heads held high-- Ron, Harry and Seamus in particular. They adjourned their final potions class that day, not even caring that Snape had resorted to docking points for "smiling for no reason", and "sloppily crossed t's". (Snape was rather upset about the Slytherin's Quidditch defeat).

After the Slytherin girls' exhibition, Ron just couldn't help himself. It appeared that he felt obligated to say something to them. And he seemed to know exactly what would wipe the smirks off their faces. "Awww, Malfoy," he said as they entered the corridor from class, "So sorry about your losing to Ravenclaw. Ah, well, better luck next time, eh?"

Draco's grin soured. "Piss off, Weasley!"

"Tsk, tsk," said Ron, still sniggering. "Don't seem to be in a very yuletide spirit, do you now?"

Harry and Seamus chuckled much to Malfoy's chagrin. Is that smoke I see billowing from Draco's ears?

"I'm warning you, Weasley, if you don't shut your stupid mouth then--"

"Then what," Ron challenged, standing up straight and tall. And of course, Malfoy was always ready to take up a challenge.

"Care to find out?" he said, whipping out his wand.

Ron kept his smile. "Bollocks. You don't have the balls."

Yes, that is *definitely* smoke coming from his ears-- fire too. . .

"Watch you language, Mr. Weasley! Five points from Gryffindor!" A stern-faced Arabella Figg had appeared behind them and she folded her arms, starting up into Ron's face. "How many times do I have to tell you? I catch you again and I Owl your Mother, is that quite understood?"

Ron blushed. "Yes, Professor Figg."

Malfoy cackled, and his noise began its ascent skyward once more.

Figg raised her brow. "And you! You cost me twenty galleons in a bet that we'd beat Ravenclaw yesterday! Thank your lucky stars that I'm a Slytherin, otherwise I'd be taking fifty points from you!"

Malfoy reddened and then quickly spun around, hurrying to meet up with his cronies, leaving the Gryffindors smirking.

"The little creep," murmured Ron. "C'mon, let's go--"

"Hold on there, Ron." Ginny Weasley was standing stationary behind them sporting a mischievous smile along with Parvati and Lavender. Ginny winked at Harry and Ron. "Watch this."

She turned to Parvati and Lavender. "Ready girls?"

The three girls counted down and burst into song at the top of their lungs:

"Jingle Bells! Malfoy smells!
You-Know-Who is gay!
The Sly-ther-ins
are slim-ey gits
Who snog Professor Snape, hey!
Jingle Bells! Malfoy smells!
You-Know-Who is gay!
The Sly-ther-ins
are slim-ey gits
Who snog Professor Snape!
The girls were singing louder, encouraged by the howling laughter and applause from the Gryffindors:

Dashing through the snow,
the Slyth-rins run away
Because of how they lost
At Quidditch yesterday!
Their keeper is a prat
Their beaters all are lame
Their seeker is a lying twat
Whose never once been laid OH--"
"WEASLEY! PATIL! BROWN! YOU'LL COME WITH ME THIS INSTANT!"

Snape. Was. Pissed.

Harry had never seen Snape move so fast: with a flurry of movement of his robes he had both Ginny and Parvati by their ears and was staring down Lavender. But apparently Snape's anger was nothing compared to the Slytherin's rage. Draco Malfoy was bearing back down the hall, wand outstretched and pointed right at Ginny.

"Gennibus Reverita--" Draco frothed and a great light came bearing at Ginny.

Her wand was already out and she was shouting "Perdita Territus!"

Their blasts hit their respective opponent simultaneously: Ginny was blown ten feet into the air, landing painfully on her bum on the hard floor and Draco was blown backwards about fifteen feet as though he'd been hit by a canon ball!

"Bastard!" Ron shouted. His wand was out, and Harry and Hermione pulled theirs--an action matched by the entire Slytherin house.

"THAT'S IT!" Arabella Figg shouted. "ENOUGH! TEN POINTS FROM EVERY SINGLE PERSON IN THIS HALL I DON'T CARE WHAT HOUSE YOU'RE IN!"

Snape was momentarily stunned by Arabella Figg-- as was everyone in the corridor, actually. But he was at once reminded of his task at hand and ushered the three girls off down the corridor. The Gryffindors applauded their heroines as they marched towards their fate, saluting their heroism.

It cost Gryffindor a record two hundred and twenty-five points, but it was mutually agreed that it was well worth it.