HELLO ALL!
THANK YOU SO SO SO SO MUCH FOR ALL THE LOVE, SUPPORT, REVIEWS and FAVORITING.
I know this chapter isn't as long as it could've been, but nonetheless - I IMPLORE you - please let me know what you think!
With so much gratefulness and excited anticipation over the prospect of reading YOUR thoughts,
All the Best,
Island Girl
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Chapter 15: The Accusation of the Year
Saturday Afternoon, October 31st…
"I don't believe it." Ron slashed his arms at the air in front of his mid-section. "There's no way."
Ron's long legs pushed him across the Common Room, away from the six other people who'd reached the same conclusion. He was stunned, upset, and agitated. Why did Hermione and Ginny have to slink off to get ready for their mystery dates right when he really needed them?
Lavender empathized, but the proof was in front of them. "Ron - you're the one that made the connections."
Ron stopped, turned, and wished his process-of-elimination was flawed. "Maybe we've made some kind of mistake?"
Harry stayed silent. Seamus, however, didn't.
"It's there, mate." Seamus looked pointedly at the item on the coffee table, "in parchment-and-ink."
"I'm afraid that you're right after all, Ron." Neville didn't want to believe it either.
"I'm with you all; completely caught off guard." Pavarti looked to Lavender before she looked at Ron. "Who'd would have thought that-"
"That the Hooligan would turn out to be-" Dean shook his head, just as surprised as everyone else.
Ron silenced Dean with another slashing motion. He wasn't going to let Dean say `that' name. If the name was said out loud, then it made it just that much more true. Right now, it was all speculation. Even if all the `evidence' pointed to…
This time, Harry spoke. He spoke for everyone.
"Ron - we'll leave this up to you, mate."
Ron continued to pace. He appreciated all the consideration being winged his way, but it wasn't making his decision any easier.
Pavarti looked at Neville. "How many additional points do you think we can score before the Christmas hols?"
"Not enough - not at the rate Snape's going." Ron groused. He paused long enough from his pacing to kick a wadded up piece of parchment into the fireplace. He didn't feel any satisfaction in watching it burn.
It was all up to him. The future of the House Cup hinged on his decision. Granted he was making the situation sound more melodramatic then it actually was, but no one had to say what each of his friends were thinking: what choice did they have?
Ron ran a hand through his hair. Twice.
He looked to Harry, scanned his friend's face for some hint of a sudden realization that could change what lay in front of him. "What do you think?"
"I think that we're gonna do whatever it is you decide, Ron."
Like that helped, Harry.
Seamus thumped his thighs with closed fists. "I hate that greasy-haired git! It's his fault we're even talkin' about all this!"
Dean shook his head at the situation and Seamus. "I'm not a Snape fan, but we can't blame him for this." He nodded at the now much-folded-and-creased piece of parchment that contained the list of the Hooligan's accomplishments. "There's more to it, people. If we figured it out…"
"Then you gotta believe that someone else has, as well," Neville reasoned.
They were right, of course. Ron felt the skin on the backs of his hands prickle.
Lavender, hair already done in anticipation of the Ball, smoothed an invisible wrinkle in her skirt. "Well - do we do we pull the trigger, so to speak, or do we let someone else do it?"
Ron shot her a look. He didn't like the mental image Lavender conjured, complete with him holding the handle of that particular gun. "Who appointed you Devil's Advocate all the sudden?"
Harry spoke evenly as to not to provoke an already tenuous moment. "I hate to say it, Ron, but Lavender has a point."
Ron felt deflated. This was one scenario he never contemplated. Nice - the master chessman backed into a kill-or-be-killed position without any other countermeasure available.
"I suppose…" He threw himself into the nearest chair and lifted his head to the ceiling. "When do we do this?"
Neville glanced at the clock on the wall. "Well, it's just gone three. Our only chance'll be at the Ball." He paused, looked at Ron. "Want me to go make the arrangements with McGonagall?"
Ron waved a hand in Neville's direction. He appreciated his friend's offer. "Nah - I'll do it."
Seamus gave a low whistle. "Talk about being careful for what you wish for…"
Ron commiserated. "My sentiments exactly."
Concern and empathy radiated from Harry. But not last minute epiphany.
"No - really. It's okay. I know you'd do it for me in a heartbeat." Ron made himself sit a bit higher in the chair, as if to gird himself for the task and reassure his best mate that he was sincere. "I'll take care of it."
Dean looked at everyone, pensive.
"Then it's settled then?" Harry quirked an eyebrow in his direction, as if to give him one more chance to back out
Ron let out a deep, pent-up, breath. Talk about doing something he should've - by all rights - been looking forward to doing. Instead, it was the last thing he wanted to do.
There's nothing for it… Everyone knows that the key to any good plan is the getaway. Too bad this one didn't do it as neatly as they should have.
"Yep. It's on. We expose the Hooligan - tonight."
*~*~*~*~
The Fall Ball Begins…
Three cloaked figures stood huddled together. The entryway to the Ball lay just ahead. Each had a hood pulled up close around their head and the plackets drawn together tightly.
"Are you ready?"
"I was told that I'd truly enjoy this experience."
"I can't wait to see their faces!"
*~*~*~*~
Harry, Ron, and Dean stood together, near to where the other Gryffindors had gathered. Each looked impressive in their dress robes. None looked like they were eager to party.
Dean's ivory damask cravat and waistcoat contrasted beautifully with the rich black tone of his robes.
The twins had chose wisely. Ron's deeply hued walnut-black robes and palest-beige shirt and cravat offset his coloring splendidly. The expert tailoring played to his height and the breadth of his shoulders.
Harry clearly had his robes made by the same talented tailor. The deep black-blue dyed velvet robes only accentuated his green eyes and black hair. The contrasting white silk shirt and matching jacquard cravat and waistcoat only served to make his physique more defined.
The three of them were dressed as Regency-era rakes.
Harry heartily agreed when Ron `fessed to wanting to pull at the seat of his trousers in attempt to make them more comfortable. He now knew why Regency-era men were so afflicted with such social restraint. How could a bloke exude the necessary confidence when his bits felt positively strangled?
Nearby, Neville, Seamus, Lavender and Pavarti each stood with their respective dates. Off to the left, with the other Hufflepuffs, Ernie Macmillan, with Hannah Abbot at his side, sporting what appeared to be formal gloves and some sort of get-up Harry couldn't quite figure out, glowered at the assembled Gryffindors.
Off the right, Draco Malfoy, dressed to perfection - complete with a formal sash, gloves, and tails - as the Malfoy-Heir, was every bit the Slytherin Prince he proposed himself to be. His date, Daphne Greengrass, cut quite the sight in her custom-fitted Chudley Cannons beater costume. Blaise Zabini, equally elegant in his domino, looked like he'd rather be anywhere than at Pansy Parkinson's side.
Just another reason why the Cannons are my favorite team. Ron definitely approved of Greengrass's choice.
Harry nudged Ron and jutted his chin in Macmillan's direction. "Think he knows?"
"That we're the reason why he could've taken first prize in the `Most Looks Like a Walking Afghan Competition'?" Sobering slightly, Ron popped an eyebrow as he thought out loud. "Maybe. Dunno how, though."
"Could be that your brothers are infamous pranksters?" Harry teased. "So it'd be natural that you'd follow in their footsteps?"
Ron looked down at Harry, clearly looking to lay the blame elsewhere.
"Or he could've found out that the hex has been around since the days of the Marauders and that the heir to such knowledge is alive and well and living in Gryffindor Tower?"
"Fair enough," Harry nodded. No sense in denying the truth. Padfoot, Prongs and Moony had earned their own footnote in Hogwarts, A History for a reason.
Dean leaned in. "Wanna keep an eye on him?"
Harry thought about it for a moment. "Probably a good idea. Never know what's going on in that kid's head."
"Ain't that the truth," Ron gave into the urge to shiver with distaste. "Anyone who can't keep his hands off himself long enough to stop growin' fur is a bona-fide nutter."
Harry knew he was being a little obvious in his attempt to get Ron to take his mind off things. Ron didn't blame him; Ron'd done the same thing many times.
With that thought in mind, Harry took in the sights around them.
The house elves really had worked wonders with the Hall.
The long benches were pushed to the walls, areas of respite for those with aching feet or those wanting a quieter place to sit and chat. The entryway and windows were adorned with garlands of artfully arranged greenery. The floating candles seemed to be glowing at half-capacity, which lent to subtle shadows throughout the Hall and made the stonework appear softer and less angular. One table was laden with refreshments while another was reserved for professors. Up on the wall, coffers - filled to various extents with Hooligans' points - gleamed in the low candlelight. In the corner, magically amplified, a quartet of stringed instruments played wonderful renditions of instrumental versions of the Top 100 from Wizardly Weekly's music list.
Friends stood in small groups. Those with dates danced and enjoyed each other's company. All in all, the night couldn't be anything but a rousing success.
Harry's elbow connected with Ron's side.
"You sure you wanna do this?"
"Yep." He wasn't going to back out now. "It's not like you haven't had to do something you didn't want to do."
"Lots of times I didn't have a choice." Harry laid out the difference. But not for any other reason than to give his friend one last chance to change his mind.
Ron swallowed, mustered as much confidence as he could. "All we gotta do is wait for her to get here. McGonagall's ready to go; got that all set up ahead of time."
"Fair enough."
He scanned the crowd again. He took in the sights and sounds of the night even as he chatted with Susan Bones, who was dressed as a quill and carried an over-size ink-pot.
He didn't miss Malfoy's nudge to Blaise and that each Slytherin boy had their gaze casually fixed on the door.
The over-sized doors opened wide. Three cloaked and hooded figures walked in, side by side. As one, they threw back their hoods and shed their cloaks.
Hermione, Luna and Ginny had arrived at the Fall Ball.
Each wore Grecian-style, shoulder-baring, dresses which fell to mid-thigh. Intricate golden embroidery adorned the hemlines and necklines. Arm-bands gleamed in the low light and the muted glow reflected off of their subtly jeweled head pieces. Low-heeled shoes that laced to their knees only added to their ensembles.
Luna tapped her wand to the slender belt wrapped around her waist. Instantly, beautifully opalescent sea-shell, spanning her entire back, materialized. She looked every bit the part of Aphrodite that she intended to convey.
Ginny tapped her wand to the broach affixed to the front of her bodice. It was instantly transfigured into a quiver full of arrows and a bow. Artemis had clearly entered the room.
Hermione touched her wand to the bracelet that circled her wrist. It lengthened and broadened into a marvelous shield etched with the likeness of Medusa. With the exception of the color of her eyes, she personified the goddess Athena.
More students entered the hall. The entrance the girls made was quickly swallowed by those with equally, or more so, stunning costumes.
Harry, though, only had eyes for the girls. As did a lot of the male population.
He ferverently prayed that he hadn't spilled anything on his shirt.
He also understood why Hermione turned down his invitation. And why Ginny and Luna had said `no' to Ron and Dean. They were each other's dates.
"If I had a date like that, I'd have said no to me too," Ron murmured.
Dean agreed. "You said it, mate."
The three man-boys owed the three girls an apology for moping the way they had.
He waited for the girls to walk over to where he, Ron and Dean stood. He enjoyed the Cheshire-cat grin that pulled at the corner's of Hermione's mouth. He could tell that Dean had every appreciation for the way Ginny had her gaze locked onto the dark-eyed Londoner. Even Ron kept quiet as Luna made her way across the floor.
Harry made an attempt to recover. He bumped Ron, again.
"Cut it out, Harry. Poke me again and I'll…" Ron whispered a warning.
Harry shot him and Dean a look.
As a threesome, they walked towards the girls.
Ron didn't even try to be funny as he approached Luna. "You look… wonderful."
Dean only did marginally better. "You are beautiful, Ginny."
"Ladies." Harry acknowledged the other girls but he held out his hand to Hermione.
Who stood as she was.
That made him smile.
Of course she would. She's a goddess - literally and figuratively.
He bowed, as he should, nonetheless. As did Dean and Ron. After all, they were dashing-men-about-town - literally and figuratively.
A hint of playfulness flitted about Hermione's attempt at an aloof expression. She gave him, Ron and Dean a nod. "Gentlemen."
Whatever Luna and Ginny said to him, his friends and each other was regulated to background noise. Between Hermione and the way that Malfoy kept trying to catch Hermione's eye, whom she was clearly ignoring, his attention was full.
All he knew was that as much as he appreciated the way the girls entered the Hall, he equally appreciated the way they moved away from him and his friends. It was the backwards glance that Hermione shot his way as the three girlfriends made their way to talk to others that made his chest fill with more than just air.
Ron shook his head. He was evidently pleasantly rocked. "Offer to fetch a girl a beverage and get turned down. I'll never understand girls."
Dean understood completely. "Don't know if I ever want to, though. If there's one thing I've learned from Trelawney, it's this: sometimes enigmas are good things."
Harry only agreed with that assessment to a certain extent. In his experience, people did things for reasons; behavior was directly related to life experiences and personal choices and measured against an individual's personality. The true mystery lie in exactly what one would discover as one spent more and more time in that person's company.
He knew without a doubt he could spend a life-time exploring everything that made up Hermione and that he'd spend a life-time contributing to her life.
Granted he wasn't `so enlightened' that he didn't feel jealousy and possessiveness swell inside him when he watched Malfoy's and Hermione's paths cross, speak briefly, and, as she moved away, Malfoy's gaze linger longer than it should have. Crikey, he was seventeen years old, not a hundred and seventeen.
A blur of evergreen robes interrupted re-directed all of their thoughts.
"Mr. Weasley - if you're ready."
It was McGonagall. It was time.
Harry clapped Ron on the back. "It'll be okay, Ron."
"Doesn't matter." Ron sounded so resigned. He squared his shoulders and looked to McGonagall. "Let's do this, Professor, before someone else does."
The tall red-head and his professor-escort blended into the crowd. Only once they reached Dumbledore did the music cease.
For a long moment, the time it took for Dumbledore to step onto the dais, conversations from hundreds of different students rose to the rafters.
The headmaster raised his hands, and called for everyone's attention.
Harry flicked his gaze to where Hermione, Ginny, and Luna stood near several other Ravenclaw girls. Each had a smile in her eyes and was clearly enjoying herself as they pivoted where they stood and exclaimed over each other's costumes.
"It's been called to my attention that Gryffindor House would like to make an Accusation." Dumbledore explained.
Half the crowd groaned while the other half cheered.
A glance from Lavender to Pavarti, from Pavarti to Padma, from Padma to Dean, from Dean to Seamus, from Seamus to Neville, from Neville to Ron, and from Ron, where he stood just to the left of McGonagall's shoulder, to Harry, caused a frown to flicker across Hermione's face and a contemplative expression from Malfoy.
Dumbledore waved a hand in Ron's direction. "Prefect - you understand what you're about to do? Should you fail to substantiate your allegation, you forfeit any and all claims to the Hooligan's points."
No could say that Ronald Weasley lacked Gryffindor courage.
"I do, Headmaster."
"Does your House stand behind you?"
If McGonagall felt any nervousness or apprehension, she didn't show it. "It does, Headmaster."
"Who do you accuse of Hooliganism, Mr. Weasley?"
"I accuse Luna Lovegood and Ginny Weasley of being the Hooligan of Hogwarts!"
Ron's voice rose. Everyone else's fell silent. Anyone who hadn't been paying attention was now riveted like the rest.
How could those two speak when all eyes turned on Artemis and Aphrodite? Athena might have been standing right next to them, but no one saw her.
A red flush flooded Ginny's face. Harry could feel her embarrassment from across the room. Luna, accustomed as she was to being viewed as slightly different from everyone else, fidgeted self-consciously.
Then, the room erupted into chaos.
Harry felt for all four of them, McGonagall, Ron, Luna and Ginny. The uproar was worse than when he admitted to everyone that he had kissed Hermione in that broom closet.
Dumbledore's commanding presence brought the Hall back to order.
"Why do you believe this is so, Mr. Weasley?"
Ron soldiered on. "It was the prank that was pulled on the Hufflepuffs, the one that involved the Knights, sir. Only a Ravenclaw can call on the Knights, and Luna Lovegood is a Ravenclaw. The Won-Shot Wands are a product made by my brothers, which is still in the experimental stage. Only Ginny, or myself, would've had access to those. They had to have done this together."
Dumbledore didn't give any indication as to whether he believed Lovegood and the youngest Weasley were guilty or innocent.
"Any other convictions, Mr. Weasley?"
"The Ravenclaw prank, sir. The stuff that made all the bubbles is something my sister sells and only a Ravenclaw could have smuggled it into that dorm."
A chorus of `that's right' and, `never would've thought', and alike filled Harry's ears.
He pursed his lips. He didn't envy the position Ron had put himself in but then again, if they didn't expose Ginny and Luna, someone else would've.
"And?" Dumbledore looked at Ron expectantly.
"Luna's really funny, Sir. She's quite clever, as well."
Harry agreed with that. His experience with her always resulted in something unexpected.
"She's in Ravenclaw for a reason. Too many people underestimate her, I think." Admiration echoed. Ron flicked his gaze down to where Luna stood. Then he looked at Ginny. "My sister is quite capable, too. Especially considering Fred and George. Between the two of them, they could have Silenced McGonagall, sheeped Snape-"
"That's Professor Snape, Mr. Weasley." Snape sniped from where he stood.
"-Professor Snape." Ron blushed, squirmed slightly under the glare the Potions Master sent his way. "The Slytherins' robes, the prank on Nick, and you, Headmaster."
Dumbledore stroked his beard. He then looked at the two girls pinned under the proverbial spot-light and spoke carefully.
"Can either of you two explain why Mr. Weasley wouldn't make such allegations?"
It was a long moment before either of the girls could speak.
To say that Ginny recovered first would be a gross overstatement.
"I can't, Headmaster."
Luna wasn't any more collected then Ginny.
"Nor can I."
Dumbledore paused, then made his decision.
To the entire Hall he spoke.
"Mr. Weasley's accusation stands. I declare that all the Hooligan's points are to be awarded to Gryffindor!"
The sound of points flowing from the Hooligan's coffer to the severely depleted Gryffindor House coffer could barely be heard over the rush of comments between those at the Ball.
Dumbledore called for attention one more time.
"Miss Lovegood, and, by extension, her House, will be awarded twenty-five points for facing Mr. Weasley's accusation and for," Dumbledore sought the exact words he wanted to use, "facilitating such cleverness."
A burst of applause came from all the Ravenclaws.
"Mr. Weasley, Professor McGonagall, you're excused." A bemused smile graced his face. He gave each of them a nod. "Thank you for your service."
"Thank Merlin for that." Ron muttered, before he stepped down and away from the dais.
Harry could have sworn he saw McGonagall mutter something similar.
He didn't feel triumphant, though. None of them did. Who likes singling someone out? He totally understood why Ginny's eyes shimmered with restrained tears. It was only because Luna and Ginny were immediately surrounded by those looking to congratulate them, and pepper them with questions, exclamations, and pleads for sharing the details on how they did their pranks, that both of them hadn't fled the Hall.
There was one person who looked like she wanted to leave the Hall.
Malfoy, of all people, actually left the Hall. But not before he gave Hermione a look that was something between a smug smirk and a summons to follow him.
As much as he wanted to dwell on that, Ron needed him more. After all, it's not every day a bloke exposes, in front of the whole school no less, a girl that he has feelings for as one of the two biggest pranksters in recent Hogwarts history. It's definitely not everyday that a bloke professes his feeling for a girl in front of the whole school, either.
Unless one happened to be friends with me, Harry mentally groaned.
He'd done the same thing eight days ago.
Ron's admissions about Luna carried just as much weight as his did when he stood up and tried to `save' Hermione when Parkinson accused her of Hooliganism. They might have said it differently, but they each said it just the same.
He'd figure out what was going on between Hermione and Malfoy later.
Harry knew how it felt to have noble - albeit misplaced - intentions misconstrued.
If Luna didn't hex Ron into next week, the lad'd be damn lucky.
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