Disclaimer: The fine tapestry of plot and characters belongs to J.K. Rowling. I am merely pulling threads at will and weaving my own design in counterpoint to hers.
Chapter 25
The Victory Party
Harry woke on Saturday morning feeling that he had accomplished a great deal during the previous week. The dueling practice with Ron, Hermione and Neville had gone remarkably well. Once Harry had specified that they needed a place that allowed for the use of projectile spells, the Room of Requirement had compensated to protect itself from undue damage.
The training with the new wands was progressing at a satisfactory rate as well. So far they had only discovered small variations that required a few minor adjustments to their wand movements and such. It was not unlike the process of learning to ride a new broom, Harry concluded.
As the sound of distant cheering wafted through Hermione’s open window, Harry remembered with a start that the first Quidditch match of the season was scheduled for this morning. Bounding out of bed, he threw on some warm clothing and sprinted down to the Quidditch pitch.
The day was overcast but not too windy so flying conditions were not overly hazardous. Glare from the colorless sky would be the biggest challenge but both teams had polarized eyewear to compensate for such conditions. The score was Ravenclaw 30 to Slytherin 40 when Harry reached the field; he concluded the game could not have been underway for long.
He searched the Gryffindor stands for signs of any familiar faces and was rewarded when the far-away figure of Ginny stood up and waved in his direction. He climbed the long stairs, taking them two steps at a time until he arrived fairly winded at the top. He spied Ginny sitting with Ron and Hermione, a few rows down. Ginny scooted over on the bench to give Harry enough room as Ron and Hermione waved from her other side.
He noticed that Hermione was presumably keeping her hand warm in Ron’s pocket again, even though both of them were wearing gloves. Ginny leaned over to catch him up on the plays that he had missed and it was all Harry could do to keep his mind on her words, huddled as closely together as they all were to make room for his late arrival. Why did he have to oversleep again? he chided himself inwardly.
Attempting to engage his mind in other ways, Harry gazed around the stands at the other spectators. He noticed that Professor McGonagall was in her usual spot next to the commentator’s booth. The pleasant baritone voice being projected over the stands belonged to Robert Anderson, the tall Hufflepuff lad he’d seen with Luna at Halloween. Unlike the commentators from last year, Robert showed a good grasp of the game as well as the ability to identify individual players with only minor prompting from the headmistress. Harry made a mental note to compliment him after the match.
He spotted the diminutive figure of Professor Flitwick, jumping up and down in the adjacent viewing stand just as the Ravenclaw team scored two goals practically back to back. Next to him was Professor Sprout, or rather Deputy Headmistress Sprout, who was still beaming from her recent appointment. Harry did not see Lupin or Tonks, even though he scoured both the Hufflepuff and Gryffindor stands. Well, that didn’t surprise him; after all, neither of their teams was playing today.
Neither did he see Professor Trelawney but he couldn’t say that he had ever seen her turn out for a Quidditch match before. Belatedly, Harry wished that he had consulted the Marauder’s Map before leaving his room to search for any suspicious activities. Something to make note of for the next match, he told himself, together with remembering to set his alarm.
Harry’s attention was redirected to the field as Professor Hooch blew her whistle to announce a foul by the Slytherin team.
“I was wondering when that would happen,” grumbled Ginny.
Ron leaned over and whispered, “That’s one for me, Sis; I said that there would be at least 100 points on the scoreboard before the Slytherins showed their true colors. You can pay up later.”
Robert announced that the score was now tied at 60 points as the whistle was blown to resume play. A furtive movement near the team changing rooms alerted Harry to the presence of Mister Stevens who was seeing to the equipment for today’s match. Why his action should seem so dodgy was not immediately clear to Harry. Perhaps it was just that he looked so incongruent in his trainers and jogging trousers, despite the Hogwarts coat of arms emblazoned on the back of his matching athletic jacket. As Stevens took a long swallow from his ever-present water bottle, Harry could see that his long blonde hair had been tied back in a pony tail.
The crowd exploded with screams and cheering that could only mean one thing: someone had caught the Golden Snitch that indicated the end of the game. To Harry’s dismay, the triumphant look belonged to the Slytherin Seeker who was holding his gloved hand aloft as if posing for a heroic statue.
A tide of green and silver converged upon the field led by the mighty form of Professor Slughorn, a lone walrus among a flock of tittering sea gulls. The Slytherin team was engulfed in a tide of congratulations from their adoring fans until only the hand of the Seeker could be distinguished among the roiling masses, the restrained Snitch still struggling to break free.
Harry remained glued to his seat as the surrounding spectators started their slow descent from the viewing stands. Ginny made to urge him up, but he stopped her with a motion of his hand. Seeing the intense look on Harry’s face, she sat down next to him and followed his line of sight out onto the playing field.
“Oh, that’s just Mister Stevens,” Ginny explained in a whisper. “I told you about him at Halloween--”
“How could I forget?” Harry replied, barely moving his lips. “He had Professor Hooch clutched across his bare chest.”
“It was a very good likeness of a romance novel cover.”
Harry turned and seeing that no one was paying them any heed, looked Ginny straight in the eye as he stated unequivocally, “It implied a more personal association than would be prudent to display “ especially for a teacher.” His voice was so low that Ginny could barely hear him from inches away. “There’s more to it than that, but I just can’t put my finger on it.”
Harry watched Stevens collect and stow the Quidditch equipment quickly and efficiently, totally oblivious to the wild celebrations that were going on around him. Momentarily, it crossed Harry’s mind that maybe the man was a Squib but then Stevens whipped out a wand and summoned the errant Snitch from the Slytherin Seeker’s hand. The Seeker spun around, giving Stevens a dirty look for depriving him of the prop he was using to illustrate the game’s climatic moment. However, the way the Seeker cradled his hand for a moment made Harry rethink that there might have also been some sort of stinging hex involved.
Not wishing to alert Stevens that he was being scrutinized, Harry motioned for Ginny to move down the aisle so they could queue up with the others working their way down the stairs.
They caught up with Ron and Hermione as they made their way back to the Great Hall for lunch. Ginny had scheduled the pitch for an afternoon practice of the Gryffindor team so she excused herself early to round up her team members.
“I wonder what made her rearrange her training schedule at the last minute,” Ron mused. “I thought she had it worked out that they were practicing every Wednesday at four.”
“Who knows?” Hermione shrugged, returning to the second cup of cocoa that she was nursing.
Harry didn’t contribute anything even though he knew the reason for the last minute change. Wednesdays at three was the only open afternoon for both Lupin and Ginny. Come that time next week, the three of them would begin training in earnest in the Room of Requirement.
The thought of returning to the common room after lunch did not appeal to Harry in the slightest. Turning to Ron, he suggested, “Do you think Ginny would mind if we watched the Gyffindor team practice this afternoon? I don’t want to make things any more awkward for her than I already have.”
Ron gave him a quizzical look and replied, “You’re over-thinking this, Harry… Tell you what, I’ll say it was my idea and that I forced you to come along, if that will ease your conscience.”
Harry smiled and nodded eagerly, then turned to Hermione to see if she was interested in joining them.
“You two go on ahead,” she offered. “I need to send an owl to my mother as it doesn’t look like I’ll be getting to the cyber-café anytime soon.”
They found a few spectators and assorted fans loitering around the Quidditch pitch. One of them was Robert, so Harry took the opportunity to compliment him on the morning’s commentary.
“Thanks,” he replied modestly, “I guess you could tell I was pretty nervous.”
“Not at all,” Harry responded. “You should have seen some of the announcers they were trying out last year.”
“Oh, yeah, Luna told me about that. She was the one who encouraged me to audition, said I had the ideal voice. She said she even took a turn herself, if you can imagine that!”
“Actually, I can,” chimed in Ron, grinning broadly at the memory. “I was laid up in the Hospital Wing during that game, couldn’t see a single play, but I had one of the most enjoyable experiences listening to Luna do the commentary. I don’t ever remember laughing so much in one sitting!”
Robert chucked. “Luna is sort of an acquired taste, I guess. Still, I’ll tell her you were one of her fans.”
“Please do,” Ron agreed. “So, do you play, Robert?”
“I tried out for the Hufflepuff team, but didn’t come close to making the cut,” he admitted ruefully.
“Well, you still have a number of years--” Harry started to respond when he was caught short by a red and gold blur screeching to a halt right before them. When his eyes focused again, he saw that it was Ginny.
“You guys fancy a bit of work-out this afternoon?” she offered. “My team could use a practice match.”
Harry looked at Ron who grinned back in return. “We’ll just go get our brooms from the shed,” Ron offered.
Harry followed keeping a watchful eye out for Mister Stevens, but it appeared that Professor Hooch was attending to the equipment single-handedly. He turned back to the field and saw that Robert was carrying on an animated conversation with Ginny. They were done before Harry and Ron returned to that end of the field, Robert waving to them from a distance as he made his way back to the school.
“Interesting,” Ginny was muttering under her breath as she noticed that Ron and Harry had returned astride their brooms. “Fill you in later, let’s play some Quidditch!”
The afternoon shadows were lengthening on the pitch when they finally decided to call it a day. The team was beginning to work well as a unit thanks to the extra workout Ron and Harry had provided and Ginny was glowing from the sheer exhilaration of a great practice session.
“Tell you what, gentlemen,” she offered companionably as they headed back towards Gryffindor Tower, “I have an open invitation for what is being billed as the party of the year. Why don’t we get cleaned up and see if Hermione and Neville want to come along?”
Ron caught Harry’s eye over Ginny’s shoulder as if to say, I told you it would be all right.
Back in the common room, Hermione had also received an invitation directly from Daphne Greengrass, one of the few other seventh-year students. The party had begun earlier as a simple victory celebration in the Slytherin common room, she had explained. As the afternoon wore on and attendance swelled, Professor Slughorn decided that it deserved to be done properly in his offices.
“I don’t know,” hesitated Harry, “I can’t see partying with the Slytherins…”
“Now, Harry, you really should give them a chance,” Hermione suggested diplomatically. “It’s not at all like it used to be, not with Slughorn as the new Head of House. They’re being encouraged to change their image.”
“Look, Harry,” urged Ron, “I never got to go to one of Slughorn’s parties last year; and just once, I think I’d like to check it out. We can always leave if the Slytherins get too obnoxious.”
Neville voted with Ron and Hermione, reminding everyone of the headmistress’ goals for all of the Houses to try to work together. Sensing he was outvoted, Harry agreed to give it a try.
Even though he’d attended one of Slughorn’s soirées before, Harry was not prepared for the sight that greeted him. What had seemed like a tight warren of rooms had been transformed into a large open area with few dividing walls and a commanding view of the sunset. Harry concluded that many of the adjoining areas must have been closed off previously.
“Blimey, you never told me it was like this!” Ron gaped appreciatively.
“It was totally different before,” Hermione whispered tersely, Ginny nodding in confirmation from behind. “It was cramped and tight and difficult to navigate.”
“Navigation’s still going to be a problem,” Neville commented as he indicated the additional bodies that had arrived in the past few minutes.
Harry surveyed the crowd and was surprised to see that the predominant color scheme was not silver and green as he would have expected from the Slytherins. Instead, just about everyone had donned white draped outfits over their street clothes.
He leaned over to Hermione and whispered, “You didn’t mention this was a toga party.”
She shrugged her shoulders to indicate that she hadn’t known, then hailed a tall Slytherin girl from across the room. Daphne Greengrass walked over to greet them seeming to float among the throng, an illusion created by the white gossamer fabric of her long draped gown. As she neared, it could be seen that her waist was cinched with flowing green fabric intertwined with silver ribbon.
“It’s so good to see you, Hermione,” Daphne said, smiling at each of them in turn. “Ginny, I knew you couldn’t stay away… Harry, Ron, you’re both looking good… Neville? I never realized you were so tall.”
Neville blushed and mumbled something which apparently only Daphne could comprehend as they quickly became engrossed in conversation. As she deftly led Neville away through the crowd, Harry couldn’t repress the thought that she looked like a modern-day Persephone with her long plait of dark hair falling down her back.
He turned his attention to Ginny as Hermione was saying, “You knew about this?”
Ginny nodded. “Where do you think the Slytherin girls got their outfits?”
Ron cleared his throat for effect and commented, “That was a bit presumptuous of them, wouldn’t you say? What if Slytherin had lost the match?”
“I think Professor Slughorn was determined that they should change their image regardless,” Ginny replied.
“The world doesn’t revolve around Quidditch, you know,” Hermione quipped, only to realize from Ron’s affronted expression that she had better get him something to drink before he forgot to breathe.
Left alone with Ginny, Harry suddenly had no idea what to say to her. He looked into her upturned face and thought of how the deep violet of her shirt intensified the copper sheen of her hair. In the dwindling glow of the setting sun, her eyes seemed infused with the same amethyst shade.
“Come,” she said, as she made led the way through the press of bodies, “I see some other sixth-years who would probably like to meet you.”
Harry allowed her to introduce him to a sizable group of girls, each beautiful in her own right, many dressed as Slytherin nymphs. He found that he couldn’t remember a single one of their names; but it didn’t matter as they had no trouble regaling him with questions and requests for tales of his recent exploits.
To Ginny’s credit, she did not abandon him to his new admirers, and patiently stood by as he told a highly generalized version of the events before genuine modesty overcame him and he ran out of words. It wasn’t until much later, when the group had dwindled down considerably and Ron and Hermione had returned, that Ginny excused herself to greet some new arrivals.
Harry could not keep his eyes from following her as she squeezed through the bodies, a bright jewel being swallowed up in a sea of white. If only he could have found some pretext to detain her, he thought wistfully.
Catching the import of his lingering look, Ron leaned over and whispered, “You could just tell her the truth.”
Harry sighed and tried to keep his expression as neutral as possible as he continued to scan the crowded faces around him. Without looking at Ron directly, he whispered back, “Not without putting her life in danger.” Sensing that he could not maintain his equanimity much longer, Harry excused himself to go in search of something to drink.
He found the long refreshment table situated in front of a panoramic view of the twilit grounds. The last rosy glow was still lingering on the horizon, pursued by the deep velvet glow of evening, the first stars just waiting in the wings.
There was still enough ambient light by the long row of windows to see clearly, but sconces throughout the room had been lit nonetheless. The flickering candlelight danced across the ice-lined platter filled with silvery oysters and other delicacies that were not so readily recognizable to Harry. More silver trays full of sandwiches and cakes of all sorts followed. Professor Slughorn was at the far end of the table, carefully skewering the crystallized pineapple from a fully detailed replica of a Quidditch pitch constructed exclusively of candy and confections. Harry followed suit with the licorice portions, and in no time they had almost fully demolished the Hufflepuff viewing stand.
“Well met, Harry,” Slughorn greeted him, recognizing his partner in crime. “I was hoping you’d come. Sent invitations to all the Houses “ I expect that the Ravenclaws will be the last hold-outs. It would do them good to drown their sorrows, though.”
From the number of empty bottles nearby Harry surmised that the Professor had already been taking his own advice. With no other teachers present for company, no wonder he had been at a loss for amusement. Harry helped himself to a butter beer from a huge iced vat that he identified as a gigantic copper bathtub complete with clawed feet. He had to give the Professor credit, he had truly managed to capture the over-abundance and largesse of a Roman feast.
“Can I interest you in a toga?” Slughorn offered in a jovial tone. “It’s only de rigueur for Slytherins, but we have plenty of extra sheets for others who wish to partake.”
“No, thanks,” Harry returned with a laugh, “I have enough trouble not tripping over my shoelaces as it is.”
“It does take a bit of practice,” agreed Slughorn as he upended an oyster shell into his mouth, spilling not a single drop on his crisp white folds. Harry could only watch in awe as the Professor adroitly scooped up a handful of other delicacies without draping any of the long fabric into the platters.
“No more Slug Club then?” Harry asked as he helped himself to a sandwich.
“Not for now. A Head of House has to have other priorities, I’m afraid. Can you believe this group has never had a party in their honor?”
Considering Snape had been Head of Slytherin for over a decade, Harry understood only too well. “I don’t think Professor Snape was much for socializing with his students,” Harry added diplomatically.
“He wasn’t much for socializing with the teachers, either,” Slughorn returned. “I could barely convince him to show up for my Christmas party last year; and then he insisted on leaving his wife at home.”
Harry nearly choked on the last of his butter beer but quickly covered it up with a cough.
“Here, have some cider, my boy,” Slughorn suggested as he speared a cold bottle from a smaller tub. “There’s been quite a demand for it since my committee introduced it at Halloween.”
Harry was glad for a chance to hide his face behind the cider bottle as he considered the import of the Professor’s statement about Snape having a wife; not had as in past tense, but current tense.
“Your committee did an excellent job with the refreshments at the Halloween party, Professor,” Harry volunteered in a feeble attempt to keep the conversation going.
“Glad we could help. Can’t say I have much talent when it comes to decorations or costumes, though. But entertaining, I understand. Could never have found those delightful gowns for the Slytherin girls, either, had it not been for the assistance of Ginny Weasley. Dressed them up as goddesses, she did. I’m sure you know her, seeing that she’s a Gryffindor also.”
“Yes, Professor. Her brother, Ron, has been my best friend since the first day that I came to Hogwarts,” Harry replied helpfully, suspecting that it would not do to remind Slughorn about his part in producing a love potion antidote for Ron last year.
“Now, where is Ginny? I saw her around here not too long ago.” Slughorn swiveled his portly form in all directions.
Sometime during the course of their conversation, the music had started up and a small dance area had been cleared not too far from the refreshment table. Although the room was considerably more crowded than before, this small oasis afforded them a clearer view across the room than before.
“There she is, Professor,” Harry cried, just having caught a glimpse of violet and ginger hair between the bodies of two dancers. He inclined his head towards the bookshelves that dominated the far left wall. But as another gap between the dancers opened up, Harry realized with dismay that Ginny was deep in conversation with none other than Robert. Both had their bodies leaning against the bookshelves, their faces inches apart.
Harry felt the color drain from his face, his body feeling like it had just been hit by a bolt of glacial lightning. He nearly missed the table as he put his empty cider bottle down, eager to cross to the other side of the room before his knees started buckling.
Misreading his intentions, Slughorn waved a jaunty goodbye and urged, “Good idea, son. Go ask Ginny for a dance.”
Harry staggered to the other side of the room where he had last seen Ron and Hermione. It was like trying to find his way through a surging tide until he felt hands grab him and pull him down into a chair.
“What is it, Harry?” Ron asked, swimming in and out of Harry’s focus. “You look as pale as a sheet. Not that you wouldn’t match most everyone here.”
“Very funny,” Harry managed to mutter under his breath as he tried to keep his stomach from rejecting both the cider and the butter beer that he had just consumed.
Hermione returned with an understanding look on her face as she kneeled down next to Harry’s chair. He was glad that the crowd was much thicker on this side of the room so that neither Slughorn nor Ginny could see him hanging his head in misery.
“Harry,” Hermione began softly, “look at me. Is this because you saw Ginny? I think you’re reading a lot more into this.”
Harry mumbled something about Slughorn’s parting comment, surprised when both Ron and Hermione seemed to understand his words.
“That’s just what you should do, Harry,” urged Ron excitedly. “Get her out on the dance floor.”
Seeing Harry’s unconvinced expression, Hermione hissed in his ear, “Look here, Harry James Potter, either you march right over there and ask Ginny for the next dance…”
“Or what, Hermione?” whispered Harry defiantly.
“I swear I will get an owl, tie a note to its scrawny little leg, and send it over to Ginny. And don’t think I can’t sign your name convincingly enough, either!”
Hermione was right, no one’s life would be endangered with a single dance. But as he purposefully took Ginny’s hand to lead her out onto the dance floor, he had to resist the urge to continue out the door to some place where they could be alone. If only a place existed that would be safe from Voldemort’s diabolical reach.
Harry Potter and the Hero's Lament by L A Moody
Chapter Notes: The first Quidditch match of the season is followed by a party that is attended by most of the school.