A Promise Kept - Chapter 27 - A Christmas Ball

A Christmas Ball

He couldn’t quite believe he was doing this, but when it came to such things, Harry could not deny that he was woefully unprepared and ignorant of what he was to do.

Even so, he hoped that his godfather would not make such a big deal out of this, but Harry knew that was wishful thinking at best. Sirius Black would relish this moment for the rest of his life.

Bracing himself for what was to come, he knocked on the door to the man’s office, and when it was opened, Sirius frowned questioningly.

“If that is you Fred and George, I would leave now,” he warned.

“It’s me,” Harry sighed as he removed the cloak.

Sirius’s eyes widened in surprise.

“What are you doing here, Harry? Didn’t your lesson with Flitwick finish hours ago?”

“It did, but I came back. I need to speak with you.”

“It must be important if you came all the way here. What is it?” Sirius asked, gesturing for him to come inside before closing the door behind him.

“Well, Fleur has asked me to be her date for the Yule Ball.”

Silence met the statement, and Sirius’s eyes all but bulged from his head when what Harry had said set in.

“Before you say anything, I have thought about what this means and what could come from it. I weighed it all up before saying yes.”

“You said yes.”

Harry nodded.

“We will both get something out of the arrangement.”

Sirius chuckled amusedly as he shook his head.

“Arrangement? You speak as though this is a bloody business deal.”

“We’re just helping each other out. I will be taking my seat on the Wizengamot soon enough, and if the other Lords and Ladies do not see me present in Britain, I will be treated as an outsider. Fleur needs someone that can withstand her magic long enough to not ruin her evening. That’s it.”

Sirius eyed him for a moment before laughing once more.

“Oh, you poor deluded idiot,” he cooed. “That’s what it might be to you, and maybe to her, but that doesn’t excuse you from being a terrible date. Besides, it could be good practice, so, if you’re going to do this, you’re going to do it right.”

“Why are you grinning like that?” Harry asked worriedly.

“Harry, Harry, Harry, what have you done?”

He was far too amused for Harry’s liking, but, he remained as lost as he had been before he had come here.

“Fleur is still the daughter of a very prominent French politician, so, there is that you must bear in mind. She is still a young woman who should be treated with the utmost respect. This means your manners must be impeccable. You will dance when she wishes to, ensure she always has a drink in her hand, and guard her from anyone that could ruin her evening. Before any of that, you are to pick her up and escort her to the ball, ensure you give her a suitable gift, and at the end of the night, make sure she gets home safe, all while being a perfect gentleman. Not only do I expect that from you, but her father will also, and James would most certainly expect nothing less.”

“Bloody hell,” Harry groaned.

“Bloody hell is right,” Sirius sighed in response, grimacing. “That also means the talk I was to have with you over the summer has to be done now. Believe me, Harry, you’re going to hate this just as much as I will.”

“Talk? What talk?”

Sirius smiled, but there was something apologetic about it.

“About girls, dating, and well…sex.”

“No,” Harry protested. “We do not need to have that talk!”

“We do, so best shut up, and get it over with. The sooner you do that, the sooner it will all be over.”

What followed had undoubtedly been the most embarrassing and awkward conversation of Harry’s life, but he had been certain to ensure it was the same for his godfather.

The memory brought a smug grin to his lips, and then a grimace as he remembered the context.

No, it would remain deeply unpleasant for both of them for the rest of their lives.

Still, it was over now, and here he was, wearing some dress robes, clutching a gift and a corsage, checking his reflection in the mirror for the umpteenth time.

Honestly, Harry felt like a pillock, and a part of him was regretting even entertaining the idea of escorting Fleur to the ball.

Tonight, he would need to be at the top of his game for all things, and though he was dreading undoubtedly finding himself at the centre of attention, he’d been preparing for it for much of his life.

Sirius’s advice would see him right, and contrary to what his mother thought, he did intend to be on his very best behaviour. As much as this night was about him introducing himself to wizarding Britain, it was more about the tournament, and the young woman he would be accompanying.

“Still look like a pillock,” he muttered, straightening his robes a final time before activating his portkey, taking his leave from Texas to arrive at Hogwarts.

(Break)

When Albus had asked for volunteers to help chaperone the ball, Sirius had been among the first to do so, surprising the Headmaster, who had immediately become rather pensive about his willingness to miss what would be a significant portion of his Christmas Day with Harry and Lily.

Sirius knew it would not take the man long to figure out why he had done so, and he did not doubt he would be anticipating Harry’s arrival, just as he was.

It would be the first time Harry had been seen in an official capacity in Britain, and he was making quite the statement whilst doing so.

Fleur was a Veela, and there would be those that would not like that in itself, but Harry understood the significance of what he was doing. He was leaving no room for argument of the kind of man he would be when he took up his seat on the Wizengamot, where he would be subjected to scrutiny like no other.

Even so, he only needed to hold his nerve.

There were those that remembered the Potters for what they had once been, and already, Harry had his own legacy and reputation to fall back on. For as terrible as what had happened was, it had served to give Harry something that no other had; an undeniable air of power and mystery about him.

Sirius chuckled at the thought.

He would not pretend to understand what happened that Halloween night to see Harry survive, but he knew the boy.

There was, in truth, little mystery about him. He was just another boy, extraordinary in his ways, woefully ignorant in others, and one who would grow to be an exceedingly powerful man.

That all began tonight with his arrival at the ball, something that elicited a grimace from Sirius as he remembered the downright awkward conversation he’d had with Harry.

“But how do you specifically please a woman?”

He shuddered as he remembered the grin of his godson.

The question had been asked so innocently, and yet, Sirius knew what Harry had been doing.

“Little shit,” he muttered somewhat amusedly as he noticed the very first students congregating just outside the Great Hall.

Filius had done a spectacular job in decorating it for the festivities, somehow keeping the spirit of Christmas prevalent, but not allowing to overshadow what this evening was all about.

He’d never seen Hogwarts looking so elegant, and though he was nervous about tonight, he was hopeful all would be well.

Sirius had prepared Hary for this eventually, had taught him all of the manners and expectations until both were blue in the face, but Harry was as ready now as he would ever be, even if Lily was not quite convinced.

Flashback

She was pacing back and forth in front of the fireplace as she worried her lower lip. Lily was not taking the news well of Harry’s impending public appearance.

“It’s too soon,” she murmured.

“It is the perfect time and opportunity.”

She almost glared at him, and Sirius held up a placating hand.

“It will be in a controlled environment with dozens of people watching over him and will only become public knowledge after the ball is over. Lily, I know you do not like it, but it is something that will have to happen eventually. This is the best-case scenario for that. Harry is right. He needs to be seen and somewhat known before he takes his seat on the Wizengamot.”

She deflated as she came to a halt and nodded.

“You’d better watch him, Sirius Black.”

“I will.”

Lily shook her head.

“I can’t believe he is going on a date.”

“From what he says, it’s not a date. He and Fleur are doing each other a favour, but I have told him he has to treat it like the real thing. It will be good practice.”

“And did you have the talk with him?”

Sirius grimaced before nodding.

“Yes, and the little bugger made it worse than I could’ve imagined. Next time, it’s your job to deal with whatever teenage problem comes up. That has scarred me for life.”

Lily almost laughed, almost, but didn’t quite manage it.

“I still don’t like it.”

“No, and you never will. No one will ever be good enough for your little Harry.”

End Flashback

She would always be much the same. No matter what Harry did in life, Lily would be there to watch over him. Whether it was anything pertaining to Dark Lords, or even who he might find himself dating, the woman would always worry for her son.

It brought a smile to Sirius’s lips knowing Harry had people around him who cared so deeply, though it fell as he caught sight of Igor Karkaroff in the Entrance Hall.

The man had barely glanced at him since he’d arrived back in October; something Sirius was grateful for.

He had nothing to say to the Headmaster of Durmstrang, nothing that could be said without leading to quite the violent, unpleasant confrontation between the two.

It wasn’t as though Karkaroff would be one of many who would return to Voldemort when the time came. No, Voldemort would want him dead himself, so, Igor’s days were undoubtedly numbered. He just didn’t know it yet.

“You seem quite nervous.”

“No, not nervous, Albus.”

The Headmaster smiled in response.

“He will cause quite the stir.”

“That’s what he does best,” Sirius chuckled.

(Break)

It was a rather strange position that she found herself in.

Truthfully, she had not been certain she would be selected as the champion for Beauxbatons, and Fleur had not even considered the prospect of the Yule Ball until Madame Maxime had mentioned it.

It would be the first away from the safety of her own home that she would be attending, and though she was nervous, the thought of Harry being the one to escort her made her less so.

It wasn’t just that he would be something of a buffer between her and those that would usually be watching her a little too closely for comfort, but it was that she might just be able to enjoy the evening as it was intended.

Fleur would not profess to know Harry as well as Gabrielle did, and it wasn’t as though they had spoken all that much after the World Cup, but she liked to think that she was a good judge of character.

She’d had to be her entire life, and Harry had shown nothing but kindness to Gabrielle, and had even been able to make Fleur laugh with his rather dry sense of humour.

There were certainly worse scenarios she could find herself in, and if Fleur were being honest with herself, being taken to the ball by Harry was undoubtedly one of the very best.

As such, she would take their arrangement seriously, and knew he would do the same.

Nonetheless, as she heard a knock at the door to her room within the carriage, the nervousness she felt only grew just that little stronger.

“Fleur, there is someone here for you,” Madame Maxime announced.

She cursed under her breath.

She had completely forgotten to make arrangements with Harry as to where the two of them would be meeting. Evidently, he had taken it upon himself to come here.

“I’ll just be a moment,” she called, checking her reflection in the mirror a final time.

She’d had her favourite black dress sent from home. It had been a gift from her mother the previous Christmas.

With her hair tied in an elaborate knot, she’d only applied a very conservative amount of make-up to complete her look, and Fleur picked up the bag to match her dress, releasing a deep breath before leaving her room.

“He is waiting outside for you,” Madame Maxime informed her. “I will escort you both.”

Fleur nodded appreciatively and even smiled as she caught sight of Harry in his black robes.

“I must say, he does wash out quite well, no?” Madame Maxime commented.

“You would not be saying that I am usually a scruffy mess, are you?”

The larger woman laughed as she shook her head.

“Non, Monsieur Potter, but I must say, you are looking very smart.”

“As are you, Headmistress.”

The woman tutted, eliciting a grin from Harry, which he turned towards Fleur.

“I would say you look very radiant, but you always do. I like your dress.”

“Thank you, Harry, Fleur replied, quirking an eyebrow at him as he presented her with a corsage that he placed on her wrist, before handing her a small, wrapped box.

“Traditions,” he explained.

Fleur nodded as she opened the box, smiling at the sight of the delicate, silver necklace within.

The pendant was of a deep blue stone held in a clasp, but as Harry removed it and gently placed it round her neck, it was the subtle magic radiating off it that caught she noticed most of all.

“It will help stop people paying too much to you when you don’t want them to,” he explained.

“You made this.”

Harry nodded.

“I’m not just a pretty face, Miss Delacour. I would have thought that you of all people would not think in such a way.”

She laughed, feeling much more relaxed than she had in the days leading up to what was to come, and threaded her arm through Harry’s as he offered, aware of the warm yet somehow cool magic of the necklace.

Whether it worked or not remained to be seen, but it would be quite the feat of magic if it did as he intended.

“Thank you,” she said sincerely.

“Well, I’m quite certain that even my presence wouldn’t be enough to keep most people’s eyes off you.”

Fleur shook her head.

“You’re far too charming for your own good.”

“It’s not the first time I have heard that.”

Madame Maxime watched the back and forth between them rather amusedly, and as they reached the castle, immediately led them through a narrow passage and into a side room before any could take notice of their arrival.

Within, the other champions were already waiting with their own dates, and Harry was immediately set upon by a familiar girl wearing a pale pink dress.

“Harry! What are you doing here?” Hermione asked.

“I expect the same thing you are,” he responded. “Well, don’t you look stunning.”

The girl blushed at the compliment.

“Thank you, and you look…”

“Dashing, handsome maybe?”

Hermione rolled her eyes at him.

“All of the above. Oh, where are my manners, this is Viktor,” she introduced the rather surly Durmstrang champion, who seemed to be rather put out by how enthusiastically Hermione had greeted Harry. “Viktor, this is Harry Potter.”

His thick, coarse eyebrows almost vanished into his hairline as he eyed the younger boy, who offered his hand.

“I saw you play in the final,” Harry revealed. “You are an incredible flier.”

Krum nodded appreciatively.

“Thank you. Even in my country, we know your name, Harry Potter,” he replied as he accepted the proffered limb. “You two are friends?”

“We’ve known each other for a long time,” Harry said dismissively. “Make sure you look after her, Mr Krum. She is very precious to me.”

Viktor actually nodded quite sincerely as Hermione rolled her eyes once more.

“Of course, but may I ask, how is it you are here with Miss Delacour?”

“Well, when she heard there was a ball, she made me beg to be her date. Honestly, my knees are still sore from it.”

“That is not true, Harry,” Fleur huffed amusedly. “I asked Harry because he can string more than two words together without drooling.”

“Oh, so it isn’t because of my charm, wit, and good looks.”

Fleur shook her head.

“And all of those,” she sighed, taking the bait he’d laid out for her.

Viktor appeared to be rather perplexed by their antics, but much less so than the other champion, who was staring at Harry quite unashamedly. He only snapped out of his stupor when his date trod on his foot, eliciting a grimace from the boy.

“Don’t you think you should introduce yourself, Cedric?”

He nodded as he stepped forward, adopting his most charming smile.

“Cedric Diggory,” he complied.

“Son of Amos Diggory,” Harry acknowledged. “It is nice to meet you, Cedric.”

“And you. This is my date for the evening, Cho Chang.”

Hary kissed the back of the girl’s hand in greeting.

“Miss Chang. I’m sure I am enchanted.”

The Chang girl even blushed a little as she giggled.

“Erm, why didn’t you come to Hogwarts with the others?” Cedric asked curiously.

“I thought about it but decided it would be better for me to seek my education elsewhere,” Harry answered diplomatically, “but it is not as though I have been completely absent.”

“I do hope you will be on your best behaviour, Mr Potter,” Professor McGonagall sighed as she entered the room. “Oh, you do look rather smart.”

She brushed her fingertips along one of his shoulders, removing an invisible, errant piece of lint, and even offered him a smile.

“Of course, Professor. You know me.”

“Yes, I do. That is why I gave you a polite warning. Now, you will be introduced in your pairs as you enter before you make way to the table reserved for the judges, champions, and their dates. There, you will dine before you officially open the ball with a dance. Any questions?”

When none spoke, she gestured for them all to follow, and they found themselves in the entrance hall once more.

“Bloody hell, she actually smiled,” Cedric murmured as Professor McGonagall left them. “How did you get her to smile?”

“Must be these robes,” Harry snorted, offering Fleur his arm. “Ready?” he asked.

“As I’ll ever be.”

“Well, you look beautiful, so at the very least, you’ll be at your very best for any photos that might appear in the media.”

He seemed so unfazed by what was to come and even relishing it in his own way. Harry wasn’t exactly excited by the prospect of such a public appearance, but he was certainly taking it in his stride.

“If I could have your attention, please, ladies and gentlemen, it is now time to introduce our champions and their partners for the evening,” Dumbledore declared, silencing the festivities. “Firstly, in third place after the first task is Mis Fleur Delacour of Beauxbatons, and her partner, Harry Potter.”

The stunned silence of the gathered students, staff, media, and other guests in attendance was palpable, but soon enough, the whispers and flashes from the cameras began.

Fleur had never felt so exposed, but for once, it was not her they were focused on. No, it was the boy who had become something of an enigma to Britain who was taking the spotlight, and Harry offered several people nods and waves as they made their towards the table.

“You see that, Fleur. You’re a bloody star,” he commented with the same grin that was becoming quite familiar to her.

She tutted in response, holding him just a little tighter, realising that what he was doing for her now was much bigger than she had considered or could have anticipated.

(Break)

He watched the reactions to Harry’s arrival with rapt interest.

Karkaroff was certainly taken aback, and if anything, he seemed to be nervous rather than hostile, as he should be. As a former Death Eater, Harry would not treat him with anything less than utter contempt, and for a man trying not to draw attention to his past, that was not such a good thing for Igor.

It amused Sirius to see him squirm, but it was Snape’s reaction that brought him the most satisfaction.

The man’s gaze was transfixed on Harry, his lips curled in what was a rather unreadable expression. What he could not hide, however was the slight twitching in his temple as he looked upon the boy that resembled his hated father so closely.

Sirius could only hope the man would pass comment. Tonight, he may be here under the guise of Professor Black, but he was as much the Lord of his family as he was Harry’s godfather.

That meant he was being particularly vigilant, and as his gaze roamed around those in the Great Hall showing interest in Harry.

The most amusing reaction came courtesy of the Malfoy boy.

He was certainly surprised by it and was holding court with the other members of his house in attendance. Little did he know that he would be biting off far more than he could chew if he was to attempt to exert himself in any form.

As much as he despised Lucius, Sirius could at least admit he possessed a level of cunning his son was lacking. Draco was far too obtuse for his own good, and certainly was not capable enough with his wand pose a threat to most.

Hermione had proven that when she’d punched him on the nose.

Draco had left her alone since, and there had been no attempt of repercussions from Lucius.

Sirius suspected Draco had not mentioned the incident to the man. Being floored by a muggleborn girl in such a manner would be most embarrassing were his father come to know of it.

He kept watching as the students took their seats and began ordering their chosen meals from the clever menus Filius had created, following suit and offering Harry a nod of pride.

He was conducting himself well, and was in conversation with Fleur, Albus, and Madame Maxime, who he had been seated by.

Still, although al appeared to be well, Sirius subtly checked the map, his nostrils flaring as he spotted a most unwelcome figure lurking near his godson.

However, as he looked up, Rita Skeeter was nowhere to be seen, and though he was confused, he felt his anger begin to surface.

The map never lied, and though he could not see her, he knew she was there.

With a frown, he approached the table, smiling at Harry and Fleur as they looked up at him.

“You make for quite the couple,” he complimented, his gaze skimming the table.

“Thank you, Professor Black,” Fleur replied, jumping as Sirius slammed his hand down in a single, swift motion.

“My apologies, there was a beetle,” he said dismissively, placing the squashed remains into his pocket. “Enjoy your dance.”

He left the confused teens to return to his own table, checking the map once more to see that the dot of the unpleasant woman was no longer present on the map.

It served her right for attempting to eavesdrop on them.

There was no telling what Skeeter would have printed about both Harry and Fleur, and Sirius would not have his godson’s name dragged through the dirt by a woman who’d adopted a most devious way of gathering information.

The world would be better off without the likes of Rita Skeeter sullying the names of the unsuspecting, good people of magical Britain.

(Break)

He watched as Sirius walked away with a frown marring his features.

His godfather had been up to something, though Harry couldn’t quite fathom what that was.

“So, you already know Mr Potter?” Bagman asked Madame Maxime.

The woman nodded and wiped her mouth with a napkin.

“He attends Beauxbatons on a part-time basis working with our Charms Mistress,” she explained. “She is very impressed with his talent.”

Bagman smiled cheerily.

“Well, if he didn’t come to Hogwarts, it is nice to know he is seeking a suitable education elsewhere,” Crouch interjected.

The man was rather stoic for the most part and appeared as though he was constantly in the presence of something that smelled rather unpleasant.

“From what Minerva has told me, his education certainly isn’t lacking,” Dumbledore broke in. “He has all the makings of a Master in the art of Transfiguration. As you know, Barty, they are few and far between.”

“Almost as rare as Masters in linguistics,” Harry replied. “Your family is known for possessing an incredible talent in languages.”

Barty nodded.

“Minus only a few, we seem to have a proclivity for all of them. It is a most useful skill to possess, especially working in the office I do now.”

Harry was almost tempted to mention his former position as Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, but Crouch was already tense enough, and he did not wish to push the man over the edge.

“Ah, it appears it is time for dessert,” Dumbledore declared, picking up his menu to read it and humming to himself. “I think I will have the spotted dick.”

A sponge filled with raisins and covered in custard appeared before him, and the Hogwarts’ Headmaster tucked into it with gusto.

“There are so many jokes I can make right now, but I won’t,” Harry murmured.

Fleur snorted and shook her head.

“Then do not get the spotted dick.”

“You know, it sounds much filthier in your accent,” Harry sighed. “I’d better stick to the trifle, unless that means something completely inappropriate in French.”

“Trifle comes from another French word.”

“So, two French desserts for me then.”

Even Viktor laughed, and Fleur rolled her eyes at Harry.

“I told you that you would be trouble.”

“You did, so, you should’ve known better than to invite me.”

“That is true,” Fleur mused aloud, “but I do not regret my decision.”

“Oh, so you had others who could be here?”

“Too many to count. You are very lucky, Harry.”

He chuckled as he took a piece of trifle, savouring the mixture of sweet and tart flavours.

They ate their desserts in silence, and Harry could feel the nervousness of the girl next to him grow as the last of the plates vanished from the tables and Dumbledore stood.

“Now that we are all fed, I would like to invite the champions and their partners to make their way to the dance floor, where they will open the ball for our enjoyment.”

Harry offered Fleur his hand and helped her to her feet when she accepted it, holding her steady as they followed Diggory, Chang, Krum, and Hermione, who looked more decidedly nervous than the others.

“I did not even ask if you know how to dance,” Fleur whispered.

“Well, you’re about to find out. Ready?”

She nodded as the first notes of the rather subdued ensemble began, and Harry fell into step, leading her around the dance floor with practiced ease.

He’d despised the dancing lessons from Sirius when he’d been a child, had even hidden under his bed to avoid them, but now, he was grateful he’d taken the time to learn, even if it had been under protest.

“You move well, Harry.”

“As do you.”

Fleur smiled as she shook her head, but she’d relaxed considerably and seemed to be enjoying herself.

“Thank you, for the necklace, and for coming with me. I cannot imagine how horrible it would be if I had to come with someone else.”

“You’re welcome,” Harry replied.

Her magic was rather heightened, and he could feel it interacting with his own in a way that wasn’t unpleasant, but he certainly felt it.

Even so, he’d managed much worse with Gabrielle’s, and Fleur’s was not emanating from her in the same way. She was relaxed, and felt as though she didn’t need to hide herself.

“You know, we don’t have to stop if you don’t want to,” he assured her as the rest of the students began filling up the space around them. “We didn’t just agree to one song.”

Fleur nodded appreciatively.

“I like dancing. Other than my father and a few of his closest friends that are not so effected by my magic, I don’t get to do it so often.”

“Then you should enjoy it as much as you can.”

“You will have sore feet.”

“I’m used to being sore,” Harry snorted.

Fleur eyed him curiously for a moment, almost as though she wished to say something, but evidently thought better of it.

“Well, it’s not so bad having a Veela for a date, or for a friend,” she added with a grin. “Have the dreams about my mother stopped yet?”

Harry paused and almost tripped over his feet but managed to steady himself so that it was not so noticeable to those around them.

“How do you…?”

“I heard her and my father talking about it. She said she felt guilty for helping you because of it. My father was rather amused.”

“I wasn’t,” Harry grumbled. “I did not want to think of your mother like that.”

Fleur giggled.

“I’m sure you’ve had worse dreams.”

Her comment had been made lightly, but it reminded Harry of the less pleasant dreams that did plague him.

“That is true, but yes, they have stopped. Maybe one day I will be able to look your mother in the eye again.”

“I doubt it,” Fleur sighed. “Come, I think I could use a drink.”

“Me too, and maybe a few memory charms to go along with it.”

The drinks table was laden with an assortment of beverages and harry opted for a Butterbeer. It wasn’t widely available back in the states, and it proved to be a good choice.

He made a note to tell Sirius to bring some home, but before he could enjoy it in full, the inevitable interruptions to the evening began.

It was a blonde boy in dark green robes that approached first.

The last time Harry had seen Draco, the boy was sporting pink underwear with unicorns sewn into the front, and Harry fought the urge to laugh at the memory.

“Finally decided to show your face then, Potter?” he asked.

He was flanked by four other boys, two of which would not look out of place in a colony of trolls, and a girl that appeared as though she had run face first into something solid.

“Well, I see you were not taught manners, Draco,” Harry sighed. “Did your father not teach you how to address your betters?”

“You are not my better!”

“Well, being the heir to a much older and more powerful family than your own says differently. Oh, that must be a sore point for you considering your father was under the impression that you were the Black family heir. Even without that, your family cannot hold a torch to the Potters. From what I hear, your grandfather used to shit his pants at the mention of mine.”

Draco had turned a deep shade of red in fury, and Harry leaned in.

“I would control that temper of yours, Draco. You do not want to make an arse of yourself here. What would your father have to say about that? I mean, it’s bad enough you got decked by a girl. You wouldn’t want to have your balls kicked into your throat by a half-blood in public, would you?”

“You wouldn’t dare!”

“Believe me, Draco, I would, and just so you know, I intend to have so many children that you never have to concern yourself with who is the Lord of the Black family. I will make sure there is a good collection of half-bloods, half-breeds, and anything else I can produce that will be ahead of you in the line of succession. Now, your presence is beginning to ruin my evening, so, if I was you, I would fuck off whilst you can still do so under your own steam.”

By now, his face was barely an inch from Draco’s and he could almost smell the fear from the other boy.

Harry had not intended to be so blunt with him, but he had met people like Draco.

He needed a firm reminder and warning to know that his tactics of intimidation would not work here.

Fortunately, he heeded the warning, and Harry watched him until he was out of sight.

“You know, you are quite terrifying,” Fleur commented.

“Me? Never,” Harry replied, finishing his drink.

“Shall we?”

She accepted his offered arm and the two of them made their way back to the dance floor, only to find themselves surrounded by other students that wished to speak with him.

Still, Harry expected this, which only meant that he was serving as the distraction he intended to be for this evening, whilst introducing himself to those he would come to know in the years to come when he eventually returned home.

(Break)

With Barty Crouch attending the Yule Ball, tonight presented the perfect opportunity to add another follower to his ranks. Although the Dark Lord was unsure of the condition of Barty Jr, it would certainly do well to have access to the man’s knowledge, connection to the Ministry of Magic, and unwavering loyalty.

Slipping through the defences of the home was not so troubling.

Quirinus had been working on them for weeks, and now, the Dark Lord was ready to welcome back a man he believed to have been dead for more than a decade now.

He offered Wormtail only a subtle nod, and he simply knocked on the door.

It was only a moment later that it opened to reveal an elf of all things.

“Imperio!”

As the Dark Lord’s spell took hold, the creature put up quite the fight, as did the one belonging to Hepzibah Smith so many decades prior.

As a young man, Lord Voldemort had overcome the defences of Smith’s elf, and he did the same here, rendering the Crouch caretaker unconscious as he took control of her mind.

“Find him.”

Both Quirinus and Wormtail did so whilst he caught his breath, cursing the weak body he found himself still in possession of.

Even so, it was better than the alternative of having nothing or being attached to Quirinus.

Soon enough, he would regain a strong body of his own, one that would become ravaged by the passing of time, and one he intended to possess forever.

“We have him, my lord,” Wormtail declared.

Quirinus entered the hallway all but dragging an emaciated man in his wake.

Barty had aged terribly over the years, and he was thin, perhaps weaker than the Dark lord himself.

Nonetheless, Lord Voldemort did not miss the glint of recognition in his eyes as their gazes met, nor the ghost of a smirk that tugged at his lips.

“I knew it,” Barty whispered hoarsely. “I knew that you would be back.”