Chapter One – Grandmother Figg

And so, with plans carefully made – with endless details considered and addressed, Harry had allowed himself a leisurely moment in an armchair before the roaring fire in the Gryffindor Common Room.  It was early afternoon, but the late December darkness had already begun to fall.  Hermione would be coming back from the library any minute now, and when she did, Harry would ask her to the Yule Ball.

As usual, the Hogwarts staff were determined to show the castle at its best at Christmas.  Hermione smiled to herself as she walked along corridors draped in great swags of mistletoe and holly.  Nearby, a suit of armor struggled bravely to get through all the verses of “Good King Wenceslas”.  Just as they had been last year, banisters through out the castle were draped in everlasting icicles, pine boughs, and baubles of all descriptions.

Everywhere, ghosts went about in groups caroling their particular favorite:

***

Hermione’s attention was immediately arrested by a beautifully lettered invitation posted just inside the Common Room.  It read:

“Hogwarts students of year three and higher

Are cordially invited to attend the annual

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry Yule Ball

To be held, Christmas Eve, in the Great Hall from 8:00 p.m. until Midnight.

Entertainment will be provided by “The Duplicates”

Formal Dress Required”

Hermione sighed.  It would have been nice to go to the Yule Ball with Harry, but their plans were already fixed.  This year Christmas was to be at Paravel.  And truthfully, she couldn’t imagine a more perfect way to spend the holidays, but still, it would have been nice…

Hermione allowed herself to imagine walking into the Great Hall on Harry’s arm.  Her face grew warm, and she smiled. 

At her elbow, a voice said, “The Duplicates?” It was Seamus Finnegan.  He continued.  “They’re incredible.”

“I’ve never heard of them…” Hermione said with a blank look.  Seamus rolled her eyes. 

“Well, being raised by Muggles, I guess you wouldn’t have…”  He sounded a bit superior to Hermione, whose eyes narrowed ever so slightly. 

“So, what makes them so special?” she asked. 

“They’re shape shifters – everyone in the band.  They become an entirely different band with each song they play.”  Hermione looked puzzled. 

“You know,” Seamus said, “if they decide to play a U2 song, then for the duration of the song, they become U2”.  Hermione was fascinated. 

“Oh, I get it…” she said eagerly, “So if they decided to play something by the Rolling Stones, voila, they turn into Mick Jagger and company?” 

“You got it.” said Seamus, grinning.  Hermione was so engrossed in looking at the invitation and in hearing about “the Duplicates” that she failed to notice Seamus signal behind his back to Neville Longbottom and Dean Thomas.  On Seamus’s cue, Dean had begun to levitate a sprig of mistletoe in Hermione’s direction.

From his armchair by the fire, Harry had seen everything.  As the mistletoe wafted gently over Hermione’s head, Seamus looked up and with a grin, cleared his throat.  Hermione glanced up and grimaced.  She was still staring from the traitorous Seamus to the sprig overhead, when Harry got to his feet. 

Green eyes flashed briefly and the mistletoe burst into flame.  It crackled momentarily before going out, ash falling directly on Seamus.  Hermione grinned and fell, laughing, into the open arms of her protector.  Harry cast a sidelong look at Seamus who turned away, embarrassed. 

Hermione sat cross-legged before the fire, leaning back against Harry.  He said with mock formality, “Miss Granger, I noticed you were looking at the invitation to the Yule Ball, and I was wondering if you would graciously allow me to escort you this year?” 

She turned around to face him with an odd expression.  “I’d love to, Harry, but how can we?  We’re going to be miles away, in Cornwall.”  Harry grinned and pulled from his pocket the letters of consent from Sirius and Gordon.  Hermione gasped.  “So, we really can go?” 

“Wouldn’t miss it.” said Harry, ruffling her hair. 

And so, when the end of term at last arrived, Harry did something he’d never done before.  He left Hogwarts for the holidays. 

Harry could feel the excitement welling up inside as he, Ron, and Hermione made their way to the line of horseless carriages that waited by the marble entrance steps of Hogwarts.   Hermione and Harry could have simply apparated to Paravel, but elected, instead, to accompany Ron to the Hogwarts Express in Hogsmeade.  Ron was going back to the Burrow to spend Christmas with his family, but was determined to find a way back to Hogwarts for the Yule Ball.  Holly Lockheart had promised him several dances, and he intended to claim them all. 

“Send me loads of owls!” Ron called, sticking his red head out of a compartment window, as the scarlet engine, wrapped in an apron of steam, began to pull away from the Hogsmeade station.  He was still waving good-bye to the figures of his two best friends, when he saw them embrace briefly, then apparate away to Paravel and privacy.

Harry and Hermione spent the week leading up to Christmas enjoying themselves as fully as possible.  Arabella’s household was just as sparkling and splendid as Harry imagined it would be.  Enchanted snow fell daily across the grounds of Paravel, making the whole world a winter wonderland of snow that wasn’t cold and didn’t melt.  Harry and Hermione built snow wizards and went sledding.  They hitched up one of Arabella’s steadier horses to a small sleigh whose harness was bedecked in bells and went for long drives together across the frozen estate.  When they were cold, Harry conjured fur blankets or hot drinks, and when they were hungry, Hermione produced from thin air, all sorts of delightful treats – even Harry’s favorite, Bertie Botts Every Flavor Beans.

One evening as they came driving home, just at dusk, they saw that Paravel had been lit with hundreds of hovering fairly lights.  “It looks enchanted…” Hermione breathed, taking in not only the lights but the frosted turrets and towers.  Harry stepped from the sled and offered her a hand.  She eased out carefully only to be scooped into Harry’s waiting arms. 

“You are the one who looks enchanting.” He breathed, kissing her eyes and lips, not caring who saw or if there were any Professors about.  The freedom offered them at Paravel was like oxygen.  He felt as though he had been holding his breath for weeks, waiting to get back here, and now he was breathing in its atmosphere in joyful gasps - outside, in came in cool crisp lungfuls, but inside, it smelled of greenery and spices.

For Arabella had worked her magic there as well.  Everywhere you looked, your eye fell on a Christmas bauble or decoration, perfectly placed or hung.  Potpourri spilled from silver bowls on nearly every table, making the house smell of oranges and cloves.  Pine boughs, holly and mistletoe festooned mantles and doors, and the smell of cinnamon drifted pleasantly from the kitchen.  Paravel had been trimmed up thoroughly for the holidays, but not completely.  Arabella had deliberately left a few items undone – things she thought Harry might like to do for the first time. 

Arabella suspected that in Harry’s life with the Dursley’s he had probably been deprived of even the simplest Christmas joys, but this year would be different.  This year, Arabella had planned a Christmas steeped in custom and tradition – all for Harry’s benefit.  And he drank it in.  He and Hermione found the perfect Christmas tree, deep in Paravel’s woods and with strategic use of the severing charm, were able to cut it down easily.  Harry levitated it home behind the sleigh and displayed it proudly in the entrance hall to Hopkins, who beamed in approval.  Hermione and Harry spent the rest of the day draping it in garland and tucking ornaments into fragrant boughs.  The Witches Wireless Network burbled in the background playing one carol after carol in the background as they sipped hot mulled cider and sprinkled fairy lights over the tree. 

Hermione made Harry his very first Christmas stocking and hung it on the mantle.  It was plush red velvet and covered in golden snitches.  At the top, embroidered in gold, was his name.  His heart gave a queer flutter to see it hanging there, next to hers.  “Meant to be…” he whispered to himself. 

And so in a whirl of activity, the days leading to up to Christmas Eve and the Yule Ball passed quickly.  Almost before they knew it, it was the morning of the ball, and then the afternoon.  Around 5:00 p.m., Hermione slipped up to her room to begin the process of bathing and dressing. 

Harry followed shortly thereafter, taking greater pains with his appearance than usual.  Arabella had gotten him new dress robes for the occasion.  They were still green, but this time of a deep forest that gave his eyes an amazing depth.   Harry fumbled with the cuff-links on his dress shirt.  They were a matched pair of miniature phoenix.  Hermione had given them to him early, just for the ball.  Eventually, the French cuffs and links behaved, making it possible for Harry to pull on his black silk vest and dress pants. 

He surveyed himself in the mirror and deemed the image tolerable.  Immaculate robes hung from broad shoulders and flared behind him when he walked.  His hair was only slightly tousled and stood out in inky blackness against his permanently tanned skin.  Strapping on his birthday watch, Harry noticed the time.  Twenty minutes until departure.  “Perfect” he thought, “done with time to spare…” Then, tucking his wand into his robes, he strode from his room and to Hermione’s door.

Harry tapped on the door, concentrated on her, and sent a whispered, “May I come in?’ 

“Please do…” echoed an immediate response.  Harry stole quietly inside and was overwhelmed by the beautiful creature he found there.  It was Hermione at her most lovely, her most radiant.  Her hair was piled into loose curls on top of her head, much the way it had been the night of Harry’s birthday.  Her make-up was elegant, her gown exquisite.   Arabella had had the gown designed especially for Hermione.  It had been made by magically crushing, stretching, and then spinning thousands of glistening opals into a weightless fabric that shifted colors imperceptibly as Hermione moved.  It subtly reflected the palest lilacs, the lightest periwinkles and softest greens.  It emulated, in a more subdued way, the colors of the Cadeau Du Mer, which glistened at Hermione’s throat. 

Crossing the room, Harry took both her hands in his and kissed her tenderly on her cheeks and throat, being careful not to smudge the perfectly applied lipstick.  His arms slid to her waist and he eased her against him, drinking in her scent and the sound of her breath becoming shorter.  He drew away for a moment and stood looking at her, her face flushed and her eyes now slightly smoky.  “Maybe we could just skip the Ball…” he thought.

She grinned instantly and shook her head, “Oh no you don’t Harry Potter, too many people are expecting us.  And Professor McGonnagal is counting on us to lead the dance with the other prefects…”  Harry rolled his eyes.  Once again, he was going to be put on display, but this year, it would be with Hermione by his side.  This year, it would be Harry’s turn to beam in pride and joy at the girl on his arm, much as Viktor Krum had done last year. 

“Well then,” he said returning her smile, “ready?”  She nodded and they went in search of Arabella, Sirius, and Remus to make their good-byes.

~~~

Gryffindor Tower was a positive hive of activity.  In dormitories throughout, young men and women were preparing for the event of the year.   Holly Lockheart smoothed her titian locks up into an elegant knot at the nape of her neck, then fastened a strand of pearls at her throat.  Her robes were emerald green and made her eyes positively luminous.  “Ron will love this.” she breathed.

Yugma and Ash Desai giggled together at the effects of the aging potion they had used to make them eligible to attend.  Fred and George thought it anything but funny as they stared in admiration at their dates for the evening.

Ashima Kahai had been equally lucky with the aging potion and was now humming softly to herself as she zipped up turquoise robes and surveyed herself in the mirror.  “Dean Thomas…” she thought to herself, “I can’t believe he actually asked me”.  She blushed suddenly at the memory.  Ashima dabbed perfume at her throat and wrists, then headed in the direction of the Common Room.

Leslie was nearly finished dressing when a soft knock sounded at her door.  It was Emily Dashwood, one of the house Quidditch players.  She looked lovely in trailing robes of black velvet.  “Could you lend a hand with these?”  Emily held up the pearls she had been trying to fasten unsuccessfully for fifteen minutes to Leslie, who had them on her in a flash. 

“You look terrific, Emily” Leslie said, meaning it.  “Who’s the lucky guy?” 

Emily flushed slightly, “Tim Darcy”.

Leslie grinned, “Your team mate?  That’s great.  You’ll have no shortage of things to talk about.”  Emily nodded gratefully, then slipped down to the Common Room.

Leslie turned back to the mirror, still trying to decide what to do with her hair.  “Long or short?” she mused.  Eventually, she decided to restore the long locks she had cut at the beginning of the year.  With a flick of her wand, they were back, hanging thickly on her shoulders and down her back in shining waves of honey blonde.  She gave her head a slight toss and felt a familiar “swish” behind her.   “Perfect” she thought, reflecting on the way in which her hair complemented her amethyst robes.  Leslie’s robes were a smoky purple and contrasted nicely with skin that was perpetually golden, even in the dead of winter, from a lifetime spent out-of-doors.  Best of all though, were her eyes.  She couldn’t help but notice the extra sparkle and smiled, thinking of the wizard responsible for her new-found glow.  At the thought of him, they became more vividly turquoise, a natural consequence of her good spirits.  Those closest to her could always read her mood from her eyes, which altered subtly with her state of mind.  Tonight, even a mere acquaintance would have been able to read the happiness and eager expectation in them.

A soft knock sounded again at her door, with a grin, Leslie called, “Come in, Emily. What did you forget?”  But it wasn’t Emily.  It was the wizard responsible for the light in her truly amazing eyes.  She gasped.  Jon Clift stood before her in robes of the deepest purple, lined with a soft grey that looked like smoke on water.  They draped elegantly on his tall frame and drew Leslie’s attention almost forcibly to the fact that his eyes were impossibly blue – a shade darker than the sky and flecked with dark green and black.  How she had failed to notice this before, she didn’t know. 

She felt suddenly shy.  “Calm down, this is Jon!” she thought to herself, remembering all the time they’d spent together over the last few months as friends.  They had studied together often, and once or twice had shared butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks.  He was quick-witted, kind and obviously brilliant.  As Head Boy and Girl, they had spent hours together drawing up schedules, lists, duties and responsibilities for prefects.  “But that was different…” she thought, feeling her pulse quicken.  “Tonight, it’s a date.  Tonight we’re going to dance in front of the whole school…”

“You look lovely,” he breathed, unable to take his eyes off of her.  He noticed the strand of pearls in her hand – the strand she was just putting on when he knocked.  “May I?” he said, reaching for the pearls.  She let them slip from her fingers, into his.  He stepped behind her soundlessly.  Automatically, Leslie lifted her hair up and to one side.  His cool fingers on her neck sent a positive thrill racing through her. 

Jon settled her hair back across her shoulders and then with an admiring glance, offered her is arm.  “Shall we?” he asked, with the most charming smile she had ever seen.  Slipping her arm through his in answer, they headed for the entrance hall.  

~~

The entrance hall was packed with students all milling around waiting for eight o’clock.   Jon stared across a sea of colored garments, looking for Professor McGonnagal.  He spotted her to one side of the huge oak entrance doors.

“You can apparate!” Leslie exclaimed, “That’s terrific!” 

“Thanks” Hermione whispered, realizing in a flash of rapport with Leslie that their secret would be safe. 

“Have we missed anything?” Harry asked Jon, who answered in his pleasantly deep voice,

“No, things are just getting started.”  Jon peered out of the alcove and said, “It looks like Professor McGonnegal is lining up the prefects.  We’d better get out there…”

As a group, they scurried forward and joined the other prefects who had been lined in pairs.  The doors of the Great Hall opened and Professor McGonnagal bid the prefects, head boy, and head girl to follow her.  They did so, and everyone in the Great Hall applauded as they entered and started walking toward a large round table at the top of the Hall. 

The Great Hall sparkled with frost.  A dozen Christmas trees gleamed in the light of hundreds of floating tapers.  The usual House tables had vanished to be replaced by about a hundred smaller candlelit ones, each draped in linen and seating about ten people.

Harry and Hermione made their way down the hall with the other prefects, followed closely by Jon and Leslie.  Unlike last year, Harry was enjoying himself fully.  There were no dreaded tasks to face, and no Parvati Patil, steering him around like a show dog.  No, instead, the most beautiful girl in the room was on his arm and receiving more than her share of approving glances.  Harry looked down at her and beamed.  Suddenly, Harry spotted Ron in the crowd and whispered to Hermione, “He made it!”  She turned to see Ron sitting at a table with Holly Lockheart, Emily Dashwood, and Tim Darcy.  He looked terrific in his new blue robes, and Hermione felt an inner satisfaction at having helped him pick them out, a satisfaction that increased ten-fold when she learned who had paid for them.

Jon’s eyes swept the crowded Hall as he escorted Leslie to their table.  He was quick to spot the nasty look and scowl that Draco Malfoy had directed at Harry and Hermione. His keen eyes had also seen Draco immediately give what might have been whispered instructions to Crabbe and Goyle.  “That boy bears watching.” Jon thought to himself.  For her part, Leslie was blissfully unaware of anything nefarious happening among the Slytherins and smiled happily to Meagan and Andrew, a young couple in Gryffindor who were also on a first date.

As they reached the table set aside for prefects, Harry drew out a chair for Hermione who seated herself gracefully, looking to see who the guests were at the head table.  Harry settled into a chair beside her and followed her gaze.  His jaw dropped.  There, resplendent in dress robes were Arabella, Sirius, Remus, and Catherine Granger.  He was stunned.  Sirius caught his eye and laughed at the look on his godson’s face.  Hermione gaped wordlessly at her mother, who gave a nervous wave. 

Catherine had a right to be nervous, for, although Sirius was seated on her right, Lucius Malfoy was seated immediately to her left.  And he looked terrible.  His eyes were glazed and his face twitched occasionally.  Clearly, being a werewolf was taking its toll.  From time to time, he cut his eyes at Catherine, muttering to himself.  No doubt outraged to be seated by what everyone assumed was a Muggle.

Jon and Leslie reached the table where Harry and Hermione were already seated.  Jon gave a courtly bow, and drew out Leslie’s chair for her.  She took it gratefully and like Hermione, turned her attention to the head table.  Jon took a seat and did likewise.  His gaze fell upon an attractive woman seated next to Remus Lupin and he did a double-take.  It was his own sister, Jules.  Jules smiled slyly and waved.  Jon laughed and shook his head.  “Trust Jules to be in the best places with the most interesting people!”

Leslie’s eyes ran along the head table, pausing with concern about the amount of alcohol Lucius Malfoy seemed to be consuming, before moving to section of table at the far side of the hall from her seat.  Her eyes rested on a familiar figure, “Jon,” she whispered quietly, “isn’t that Alias Swift?”  He glanced at the end of the table and nodded silently. 

“I wonder what that’s about?” Leslie and Jon said simultaneously to each other, then laughed, amused by how closely they seemed to think.  

“I can guess,” said Jon, eyeing Lucius Malfoy, but got no further.  Professor McGonnagal called for everyone’s attention. 

When the Hall was silent, Dumbledore got to his feet, welcoming the Board of Governors, Special Guests, Alumni, and Students to the Ball.  “And now,” with a twinkle in his eye, “let the feast begin.”

The meal was splendid and passed quickly.  In what seemed like no time at all Harry, Hermione, Jon and Leslie found themselves on their feet as Dumbledore used his wand to slide tables and chairs to the sides of the room.  In the space he had created, he conjured an impressive looking stage and dance floor.

There was a tremendous round of applause as “The Duplicates” made their way toward the stage.   At the same time, prefects and their partners edged their way through the crowd and to the dance floor.   With their trademark move, The Duplicates morphed into U2 and began to play “With or Without You”.  Harry led Hermione to very center of the dance floor, sliding one arm around her waist before taking her hand with his other.  They were lost in their own world, swaying in time to U2.

“At last”, Jon thought to himself with a small smile, and lacing his fingers through Leslie’s, he led her into the heart of the dancers.  She stepped lightly into his arms.  With one hand at her waist and the other holding hers gently, Jon effortlessly guided her around the floor - their bodies inching imperceptibly closer.  Leslie sighed in bliss.  She loved the feel if his arms around her, his breath on her cheek.  The song ended, but they didn’t break apart.  They simply stood, gazing at one another, impossibly close together.  

Jon dipped his head slightly to Leslie’s and their lips brushed.  For one instant the world stopped turning, this was the moment Jon had been waiting for, for as long as he’d known her.  He could have sworn it was his imagination, but he thought Leslie had actually deepened the kiss.  It was bliss – the most wonderful experience of his life.

Leslie had been gazing up into his eyes, when he had ever so slowly lowered his head to hers.  And when his lips softly touched her own, an amazing sensation coursed through her.  She found herself standing on tip toe to return his kiss, lengthening the moment.  It was indescribable and obscurely what she had been dreaming of for many months now.  How many times had she watched him laughing, smirking, or deep in concentration and wondered what it would be like to feel his firm lips against her own?  Now she knew – it was exquisite. 

He let her hand drop and was about to fold her into his arms when they were unexpectedly jostled by another couple – Draco Malfoy and Pansey Parkinson.  For the second time that evening, Jon had the impression that Malfoy was up to something.  Maybe it was the fact that Malfoy’s swagger was a little pronounced or that his twisted smile seemed all knowing, but something was going on.

Jon was torn, between his own inbred good sense, and his desire to stay on the dance floor with Leslie forever.  Duty won.  He drew away from Leslie for a moment and gave her a searching look, as if trying to make up his mind about something.  Leslie saw his features grow set, and knew that whatever it was, had been decided.

“Come with me,” Jon said, and taking Leslie by the hand, led her out of the Great Hall and into the entrance.

~~

Elsewhere on the dance floor, Harry and Hermione were smiling at couples dancing nearby.  Among them were Sirius and Catherine.  “What are you doing here?” Hermione breathed. 

Harry whispered something in Hermione’s ear.  She grinned up at him, then nodded.  Harry tapped Sirius on the shoulder, and said coolly, “May I cut in?”  Sirius bowed and moved aside, turning immediately to Hermione, who was only to happy to dance with her adopted godfather.  Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown looked on enviously. 

Harry and Catherine were now gliding easily about chatting over inconsequential things like the decorations and food, when Harry became serious.  “Catherine, I have something I’d like to ask you…”  She looked up, without any idea as to what might be coming.  He continued, “You know that I love Hermione, don’t you?”  Catherine nodded and Harry smiled, encouraged.  “In the morning, I would like to ask Hermione to marry me.  I am ready for us to become formally engaged, but I didn’t want to speak to her until I’d spoken with you and Gordon.” 

She looked a little pained.  “You’ve spoken with Gordon?”  Harry nodded.  Catherine’s bottom lip trembled slightly, “and what did he say?” 

Harry grinned, “He approved”.   Catherine seemed pleased at the news, but Harry felt her sag slightly in his arms. 

She recovered herself quickly, and said, “Of course, you have my blessing as well, Harry darling.  Many times over you have it.” 

Harry kissed her cheek and whispered a quiet “Thank you” as Sirius arrived to re-claim Catherine.

~~

 In the entrance hall…

“What is it Jon?’ Leslie asked, concerned that she might have done something wrong.  He saw the slightly hurt expression and it pained him. 

“It’s the Malfoy,” he said at last.  “I’m positive that he’s planning something and as much as I’d like to turn a blind-eye, I can’t.” 

Leslie understood completely and said, her eyes alight with interest, “What do you think is going on?” 

Jon ran his fingers through his hair, frustrated.  “I can’t be sure, but it has something to do with Harry and Hermione.” 

Leslie smiled, “That’s a given… the question is, what are we going to do about it?” 

“We?” Jon repeated. 

“Yes, ‘we’, Leslie said with a grin.  “Have you forgotten you’re talking to the Head Girl?  In truth, he had ceased to think of her as Head Girl.  She had become something much more than that.

She looked at him levelly, half expecting him to protest.  But the words died on his lips when he saw her expression of determination. 

“Have it your way, then” he said, gazing at her in wonder.  Not only had she been willing to set aside any hopes for further romance on the dance floor, she was fully prepared to help him do whatever was necessary to keep Malfoy in line.  Her eyes sparkled. 

“She’s actually enjoying this!” He thought to himself, which pleased him tremendously.  Without pre-amble, he kissed her still smiling mouth.  “Thanks for understanding” he whispered. 

“Anytime” she said, “now, let’s go…”

Jon and Leslie slipped from the alcove to see Crabbe and Goyle lugging two large crates to the doors of the Great Hall.  Before they could intervene, or even shout, Crabbe and Goyle had forced the crates open.  Dozens of winged figures shot out and streaked into the Great Hall.   They were Welsh pixies – sickly green in color and decidedly nastier than their Cornish cousins.  Crabbe and Goyle had disappeared as the sounds of breaking glass and screaming students began to issue from the Hall. 

Jon raced to the doors and kicking aside a crate, beheld pandemonium.  Pixies were everywhere biting and scratching the party goers.  Punch cups and glasses were hurled indiscriminately at the walls, chairs were being knocked over, The Duplicates were in complete disarray, having been taken off guard by the intruders.  They were in the process of morphing when the pixies rushed at them.  As a result, Neil Diamond appeared to be singing a duet with the Rolling Stones. 

“Not pretty…” said Leslie, who was standing behind Jon to keep from being splattered with cake.

Harry and Hermione had drawn their wands and were attempting to free Catherine from two pixies who had her by the hair.  Sirius was using his wand to freeze large groups of pixies at a time, but it was slow going and there were hundreds of them.  Remus and Jules were untangling Tim Darcy and Emily Dashwood from a pile of folding chairs that several of the pixies had sent crashing down around them.

Without being aware of it, Harry, Hermione, Ron, Holly, Remus, Sirius, Catherine, and Jules had allowed the pixies hi-jinks to draw them into the center of the room, where they stood in a loosely formed circle attempting to deal with each new onslaught as best they could. 

Leslie was surprised to see Dumbledore doing nothing but observing closely.  Without knowing how she knew it, Leslie realized that Dumbledore was deliberately letting his lieutenants handle this mini-crisis.  He was watching with interest as they began to work together as a team.  What he wasn’t watching, was Lucius Malfoy, who was starring fixedly at an enormous chandelier hanging over the center of the hall.  His lips were moving frantically.  The great wrought iron chandelier with its thousands of candles was beginning to sway.

She grabbed Jon’s arm.  “Look!  Look at Lucius Malfoy” she said sharply.   Jon’s eyes flashed from Malfoy, Sr. to the chandelier.  Its ropes were beginning to fray.   It was going to fall – to crush Harry, Hermione, Remus, Sirius, Catherine and Jules. 

“Jules!” Jon shouted as it started to fall.  She looked up and screamed.

Without warning, an indefinable sense of power surrounded Jon, rolling off him like waves, bursting from every cell in his body.  Leslie gasped as he was washed in a preternatural light – a light that seemed to be coming from him, seeping from the edges of his cloak, his hair, his fingers, everywhere.  There was a smell of magic thick in the air, as though it were just about to storm.  She clapped a hand to her mouth to keep from screaming, when she noticed her own fingers, glowing oddly.  She felt a gust of wind rush past, making her robes flare like a banner behind her.  Focusing all her energy on the falling chandelier, she shouted, “Wingardium Leviosa”.  Jon had simultaneously done the same thing. 

And suddenly there was silence.  The chandelier was frozen in mid-air.  Leslie felt a metallic taste in her mouth.  She had bitten her lip and it was bleeding.  She looked at Jon, whose features had not yet relaxed.  He was intent on two figures trying desperately to escape the Great Hall.  Leslie saw them instantly, and realizing their role in the near disaster felt a wave on anger course through her.

Cold fury flowed through every line on Leslie and Jon's faces. They radiated power as if giving off a burning heat. With a flash of aquamarine and sky blue eyes, where Pansy Parkinson and Draco Malfoy had stood, a pair of pink flamingoes now gawked.

It was Ron who first broke the silence.  His shouts of laughter rang through the hall.  The flamingoes flapped awkwardly toward the shelter of a cluster of poinsettias as one by one, people began to shout and guffaw.

Not unexpectedly, seeing his son, Draco, being turned into a flamingo had the effect of pushing Lucius Malfoy completely over the edge...

He pointed his wand directly at Leslie and Jon and shouted “Avada..”  But Harry and Hermione had been too quick for him.  Their disarming charms sent him reeling backwards into the waiting arms of Alias Swift, who led him away in cuffs.

Leslie turned to Jon with a raised eyebrow, “Flamingos?” 

He shrugged and spread his hands, palms up before him, in a helpless gesture.  “I know, I know, I should really come up with something more sinister, but when I get mad, I always think of Florida.  Did I ever tell you about the time I turned one of my cousins into a palm tree?”  Leslie doubled over in laughter. 

Dumbledore and the other Professors soon had the Great Hall sorted out once more, and The Duplicates were at length lured back on stage.   The underlying current of tension that had filled the Great Hall earlier had evaporated.  People were dancing in earnest now to all the greatest bands.  No one seemed to want to stop, even to tour the enchanted grottos that had been conjured outside. 

As midnight drew near, Dumbledore sent several hundred sprays of mistletoe floating out over the crowd.  One bunch drifted directly over Sirius and Catherine.  She started to laugh, never dreaming he would really kiss her.  But he had never been more, well, um serious, let’s say.  Taking her chin in his hands, Sirius Black kissed Catherine Granger soundly before letting her go.  She looked at him, wide-eyed and without stopping to think, kissed him back.

Harry and Hermione watched in wonder, then, thinking that his godfather was on the right track, Harry summoned one of the floating sprays their way.  Plucking it from the air, Harry offered the mistletoe to Hermione, who tucked it into her robes for later use. Hermione smiled against his mouth as Harry kissed her deeply, then in a flash of golden light, they apparated back to Paravel.

Somewhere a piano played softly, accompanied by a single guitar.  Remus had joined the band and was singing Lily’s song. 

Jon and Leslie were dancing close by, a few inches above the floor. Her head rested on his shoulder, and his hands were in her hair.  She had been watching Harry and Hermione and sighed.  Looking up at Jon, she said, “Harry and Hermione have an incredible relationship, don’t you think?  They’re so completely attuned to one another.  Did you know they were telepathic?”  

Jon’s eyes flashed for a moment, then a voice in Leslie’s head whispered “Yes”.  Her eyes widened as Jon steered her skillfully under a sprig of mistletoe.  “Merry Christmas” he said kissing her softly.  Magical snow had begun to fall; it clung in their hair and eyelashes.  Neither noticed, or cared.  Somewhere, a clock struck midnight.  The Yule Ball was over for another year.