Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Moments in Love	By : Gandalfs-Beard Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Harry/Hermione Views: 175861 -:- Recommendations : 3 -:- Currently Reading : 14
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. All rights belong to Rowling. Nor do I make any money from the story.

Chapter List
- 69
- 70
- 71
The Gathering

The Potters and their friends sat around the dinner table rubbing their full bellies and praising Dobby for yet another fantastic feast. When Dobby began magically clearing up the dishes, the conversation turned to musing upon what being a Coven meant for them as they faced the uncertain future, sparked by the murmurs and giggles coming from the three girls at the end of the table by the window.
“What’s so funny?” asked Daphne, her curiosity getting the better of her.
Jennifer peered at the other three girls, and the rest of the Coven’s eyes fell upon them as well. Ginny grinned, turning pink, and Parvati looked up, biting her lip and blushing.
“It’s been a week and a half since the three of us all had sex together,” said Luna bluntly, giving Parvati a look. Parvati's blush deepened.
“I... er... I wasn’t sure,” Parvati said to Luna and Ginny. “I mean, it was fun, but I didn’t want to impose on you two. I’ve been feeling a bit like a third wheel whenever I’m around Lavender because she’s always with Viktor these days and... and I thought it might be a bit rude or weird to try to get in the middle of your relationship just because I don’t have someone of my own at the moment...”
“Don’t be silly,” said Luna. “You’re part of it now too.”
“Luna’s right, Parvati,” Ginny added. “We don’t want you to feel like a third wheel around us. It wasn’t just fun. We love you being in on it...”
“...and we love you!” Luna concluded sincerely. “There’s nothing to stop us from being a threesome.”
Parvati squirmed happily, her blushes putting a strawberry to shame.
Fleur smirked a bit, glancing at Dora, Hermione, and Harry, drawing more giggles from around the table. Harry felt his own face growing a bit warmer, but the direction of the conversation got him thinking.
“So... er... I was wondering, Hermione,” Harry began tentatively, “the... erm... Coven ritual, it seems to me like we’d probably have to do it every so often to... er... recharge the Coven connection between us all. How often d’you think we need to do it?”
“Oh, you’re absolutely right Harry,” said Hermione, her eyebrows arching when she realised that she had forgotten to mention that bit. “It did say in the book about Covens that the rituals should be engaged in on a regular basis.
“It wasn’t specific about how often was absolutely necessary - as apparently it varied from Coven to Coven - but it did indicate that it was probably best to not let it go longer than a month. Apparently some Covens did it as often as once every few days, and others once a week. But some Covens believed it was best to do it once a month under a full moon...”
“Oh... it’s still the full moon,” Jennifer interjected. “I think today’s the last day. Do you think it would really make a difference?”
“Er... I’m really not sure,” Hermione replied. “But it might make a bit of difference actually. As I pointed out before, symbolism is very important to a lot of magic which involves Rituals of one sort or another. Some Covens may have also been followers of Celtic paganism or other ancient muggle pagan religions for whom the Moon held great meaning.
“And it’s also possible that there’s a physical effect of the light of the sun reflecting from the Moon’s surface. I can’t think it makes a lot of difference though, as we clearly triggered the Coven connection during the last ritual, despite it not being a full moon.”
“It can’t hurt to try then, right?” said Ginny, her eyes gleaming eagerly.
“No, I suppose not,” Hermione concurred with a laugh. “I suppose I’m up for another ritual this evening if everyone else is.”
Apparently the others were just as eager as Ginny and Luna, as the rest of the Coven quickly agreed. Dora seemed a bit more reserved than usual though.
“You know, we really oughta keep this Coven thing under wraps,” said Dora, peering pointedly at Hermione and Harry. “If we don’t, loads of people are just going to assume we’re havin’ orgies all the time - all of us in a pile together - just like my mum and dad assumed that you two and me and Fleur are, even though it’s utter bollocks. And you know how most people feel about that sort of thing...”
“That’s very true!” Hermione sighed, looking more than a bit guilty. “There’s a lot of stigma attached to Covens despite the recognition of their abilities. More witches and wizards would try to give it a go otherwise. If I hadn’t suggested it...”
“Non ‘Ermione!” Fleur interjected. “Do not berate yourself! I am proud and happy to be a part of such a thing - with it I feel connected to my Veela heritage like never before. And beyond ze fact of increasing the power of our spells - which may yet ‘elp us remove your Minister from power - eet brings us all closer togezzer... makes us even more a family.”
“Hear, hear,” Dora agreed, nodding. “Sorry Hermione! I wasn’t tryin’ to make you feel guilty. Really! I was just pointing out that we should try to keep it to ourselves...”

~o0o~
The headmaster of Hogwarts sighed as he examined the reports from around Britain on his desk. The fact that more and more wizards in their own communities were banding together to resist the Ministry was a hopeful sign, but there was no doubt that the Minister would soon escalate the level of retaliation to some of the uprisings.
It was clear that the Order needed to redouble their efforts to make contact with the smaller resistance groups and coordinate their efforts to protect the muggleborn. The difficulty was that there was really no way to predict where the Ministry would strike next. Hopefully the Order’s moles in the Auror Office - those such as Mulligan and Pevensie - would be able to give the Order enough advance notice to muster an effective response to the next attack.
In the meantime, keeping the students’ spirits up was also a concern. The suggestion of Fred and George Weasley for a “Yule-O’Ween” Ball had been inspired and was a most welcome proposal. Dumbledore couldn’t help smiling. True, Minerva had been a bit perplexed by the idea, but she had immediately seen the benefits.
Dumbledore’s thoughts turned to the Potters and their friends. He picked up the mirror on his desk to issue an invitation. Undoubtedly they would be eager to return to Hogwarts for the Ball; it would surely be a welcome distraction for them as well.
Though if all was as it appeared, Dumbledore’s keen senses told him that they had already discovered a most unique method of maintaining some measure of good cheer in these troubled times - a method which also promised to make them a force to be reckoned with such as had not been seen in many years. For their own safety - not to mention their reputations - Dumbledore hoped they could manage to keep it a secret.
Fawkes - ever cognizant of what was on his human’s mind - uttered a little trill which sounded very much like a chortle of laughter.
“Indeed Fawkes,” Dumbledore chuckled. “Unless I am very much mistaken, it is almost a certainty that Harry and his wife and friends have formed a Coven...”

~o0o~
After showering and preparing for the Coven ritual with Fleur, Dora warily approached the door of the bathroom relegated to the Potters and knocked.
“Come in,” called out Hermione’s voice from the other side of the door. “It’s safe...” her voice quickly added, accompanied by the sound of a chuckle which sounded suspiciously like it belonged to Harry.
Carefully cracking the door, not putting it past the Potters to mess with her a bit for inadvertently giving Hermione the go ahead to walk in on her and Fleur the other day, Dora was relieved to find that they had both finished showering and were more or less covered up.
Nonetheless, Harry turned a bit pink as he only had a towel wrapped around his waist. Hermione grinned, swaddled in a fluffy blue bathrobe as she was.
“Oi, Harry, Hermione... sorry to interrupt.” Dora grimaced apologetically at the still dripping Potters. “...Message from Dumbledore on the mirror. Apparently a few of our friends at Hogwarts are missing us, and are hoping that we’ll show up to celebrate somethin’ called ‘Yule O’Ween’ with them later this week... Saturday.”
“‘Yule O’Ween’...?” Hermione’s features crinkled in perplex. “What on earth is ‘Yule O’Ween?’”
“Something mad Fred and George came up with, I reckon!” Harry chortled. “To make up for the Carrows not throwing the usual Halloween bash. I suppose the Carrows didn’t do Christmas properly either...”
“Right in one,” Dora replied. “Anyway, I said we’d all be there. It’s gonna be a Costumed Ball of some sort.”
At first thought, the idea sounded brilliant to Harry. So why did he suddenly have an ominous feeling that something was going to spoil it?
Hermione glanced at Harry, noticing his sudden shift in demeanor and wondering what had caused it. Then it hit them both at the same time.
“You don’t think...” Hermione began.
“...that the only reason nothing terrible happened on Halloween at Hogwarts which somehow involves us was because the Carrows didn’t mark the occasion with a celebration? Yeah... that sounds bloody stupid when I say it out loud!” Harry shook his head, feeling really silly.
“I don’t know Harry...” Hermione frowned worriedly. “Normally I’d agree completely that would be ridiculous - I’d be the first one to point that out. I know that it doesn’t really make sense - it’s completely irrational in fact - but something always seems to go wrong for us on Halloween. First Year it was the Troll...”
“...and Second Year the Chamber of Secrets was opened...” Harry sighed.
“...then Third Year Sirius broke into the castle while everyone thought he was a mass-murderer and slashed up the Fat Lady’s portrait...”
“...and then last year my name came out of the Goblet of Fire,” Harry concluded resignedly. “Yeah! But still, it’s not like it’s really going to be Halloween. And it’s only going to be a half late-Halloween celebration and half a late Christmas. It’s completely mental right? ... Please tell me it’s bonkers Hermione!”
“Yes... yes of course it is Harry,” Hermione agreed quickly, trying to shake her own feelings of foreboding. “You’re right! It’s not actually happening on Oct 31st, and the odds of something dreadful happening to us on Halloween five years in a row would have to be astronomical...”
Hermione trailed off when Harry raised his eyebrows at her. “...So of course something’s going happen!” she concluded with a heavy sigh.
“Seriously?” said Dora with a bemused expression on her face. “You’re not going to let some weird premonition get in the way of havin’ a good time at a party next Saturday are you? Come on you two - get a grip on yourselves! ... Anyway, you’ll feel loads better after a romp by the pond under the full moon and have a good laugh about this after...”

~o0o~
The wizarding residents of Puddleby-on-the-Marsh were very proud of their status as the home of one of the most famous historical magical naturalists in Britain - a magizoologist so famous in fact, that a series of muggle children’s stories had been written about him. And it annoyed them greatly that Newt Scamander’s fame had relegated their own favourite son to the back-pages of the history books.
Though frustrated, most of said wizarding residents couldn’t really say that it was surprising. Especially given the fact that their own famous magizoologist had spent as much time with ordinary animals - often providing his services as an unusually gifted veterinarian to his muggle neighbours - as he had on his exploratory trips to discover unusual and magical creatures.
But still, one would think that discovering such unusual creatures as the Pushmi-Pullyu and the Great Pink Sea Snail would have been enough to cement Eleanor Dolittle’s father’s rightful place in history.
In any case, the wizards of Puddleby-on-the-Marsh were also proud of their splendid relations with their muggle neighbours, no doubt due in part to the fact that the vast majority of the wizards were either halfblood or muggleborn with extensive ties to the community through their relatives.
A number of days had gone by since the Ministry had first sent Aurors to scout out the town on Somerset’s coast, after a few of the town’s wizarding residents had sent a large gang of Snatchers packing with their tails between their legs. And each day the Aurors had returned to patrol the streets, searching for the muggleborn and the Insurrectionists.
Anxiously, those who had fought the Snatchers had also searched Puddleby in that time, avoiding the Aurors as best as they could, gathering as many muggleborn as they find, and moving them from house to house.
The heavy wet snow continued to fall in the gloom of the gathering dusk, coming straight down and pelting the small group of cold, wet witches and wizards cautiously approaching the dark, unlit cottage at the end of the oak-lined road, wands at the ready. A wizard with shaggy dreadlocks glanced around worriedly before turning the handle of the front door. It swung open with a creak, revealing only silent darkness.
“Mum,” called out the wizard in a slightly panicky voice, “...are...are you there? It’s only us - you can come out...”
A middle-aged witch with streaks of white in her curly black hair slowly emerged from the kitchen with her muggle husband, both of them letting out sighs of relief.
“Joseph! Thank goodness you’re safe...” The witch lowered her wand when it was apparent that it was her own son and some of their neighbours.
“I’ve just been round at Mrs Dolittle’s - Eleanor’s. We’ve found some more muggleborn and she’s lookin’ after them. I think we’ve got most of them now. We’re heading back there for a meeting to prepare for the Ministry’s next move.”
“Good!” Joseph's mother nodded, her features hardening. “It’s about bloody time we pulled together and did something... Dumbledore and his lot can’t do this all by themselves.”
Apparition cracks and screams caught the ears of everyone gathered near the hallway, and they all ran to the front door in alarm. Several wizards in long black trenchcoats loomed over two prone figures sprawled facedown in the slush, pointing their wands at the group emerging from the cottage. A few more stood nearby, their faces stony and grim.
Terrified, Joseph’s heart caught in his throat at the sight of his wife lying on the pavement, regretting now that he had relented and allowed his wife to keep watch along with one of the other neighbours. The small congregation of wizards in the doorway faced off nervously against the Aurors, their own wands aimed and ready to retaliate.
“Cease and Desist! Drop your wands immediately!” shouted the tall, menacing Auror standing by the gate. “Things will go much easier for you if you just hand over the mudbloods and submit yourselves for confirmation of blood status. Don’t force us to use Unforgivables...”
“That’s my wife!” Joseph roared at the Aurors. “What’ve you done to her? ... You bloody bastards!”
The lead Auror narrowed his eyes at the dreadlocked young upstart, and for a moment all was silent as they stared each other down.
The silence ended in loud echoing crackles and pops, and the darkening street suddenly lit up in a myriad of colours; jets and arcs of magic flew, bursting and sparking as spells ricocheted. Icicles fell from the eaves of nearby cottages and bungalows as their half-frosted over windows rattled.
Two of the defenders fell, dropped by the Aurors’ stunning spells. A red Jaguar exploded and a snow laden oak-tree burst into flame when those still standing returned fire and missed the dodging Aurors. Terrified muggles peeked through their curtains when they heard the sounds of battle raging outside their windows.
A streetlamp jumped into the fray, swinging wildly from its base as if it were an enormous iron chain - of the sort which attached anchors to large vessels - in the hands of a giant and knocking down one of the defending wizards with a sickening sound of breaking bones. Another of Joseph’s companions aimed her wand at a tall hedge and its limbs extended, whipping out to wrap themselves around the Auror who had animated the streetlamp. But the Auror wriggled away, leaving his trenchcoat in the clutches of the foliage.
“You lot asked for this,” snarled the lead Auror as he fired a bolt of green lightning, scattering the group.
Of the defending wizards, only Joseph had both enough rage, and the skill necessary to retaliate in kind. But the others were at least skilled enough in Charms to keep up while managing to dodge the Aurors’ Killing Curses. More spells flew through the heavy snowfall. One of the Aurors crumpled when Joseph’s Killing Curse struck him in the chest.
Taking a leaf from the book of their attackers, another defender aimed his wand at a streetlamp. The steel lamppost coiled itself around an Auror and began to squeeze; forcing him to apparate to safety before being crushed. When a spell from Joseph's mother struck it, an old grey Volkswagen bus with chipped paint came to life and chased one of the other Aurors down the road.
Yet another Auror slid on an icy patch and fell when he dodged one of the green arcs of magic leaping from the end of Joseph’s wand, cracking his head on the street. The Auror staggered back to his feet with the help of one of his colleagues, thankful that enough snow had collected - wet as it was - to cushion the blow.
Realising that they were outnumbered, and that the halfblood traitors and the mudbloods were no-longer too frightened to resist official Ministry personnel, the lead Auror yelled at the others to retreat.
“I hope you’re satisfied!” he barked at Joseph. “We’ll see how well you lot do when we return with reinforcements!” he snarled before disapparating.
When it was all over, breathing heavily, Joseph fell to his knees beside his wife and felt for her pulse, hoping that she had indeed only been struck by a stunning spell. The young blonde woman with blue lips groaned and tried to push herself up, shivering from the cold and wiping the snow from her face.
“It...t...t’s ok...k...kay! I’ll b...be al...r...r...right,” she said through chattering teeth.
“Thank God! Becky!” Joseph gasped with relief, beside himself with joy to find his soggy wife was recovering from the stunning spell. “That’s the last time I’m leaving your side...”
“D...don’t make p...p...promises,” she retorted, smiling wanly. Joseph heard sloshing and looked up to see his mum approaching, a stricken look on her face.
“Rebecca dear, are you alright?”
“Y...yeah, F...F...Frances! J...j...just freezin’ m...my arse off!”
“Come on, let’s get you inside to warm up then,” Joseph’s mother responded as she took one of Becky’s arms, helping her son lift his wife to her feet.
As a number of shocked muggles opened their doors and spilled into their front yards for a better look, Joseph peered around to see to any others who had fallen. His eyes widened and his jaw slackened in horror at the sight of one of the figures lying in the street in a puddle of red stained slush, immobile, unlike most of the others who were groaning and scrambling to stand up.
Joseph darted into the road, sliding on the wet snow and collapsing at his best friend’s side.
“Morgan!” he gasped, blinking back tears when he reached out to the broken body and confirmed there was no heartbeat.
Looking up at the length of twisted steel reaching across the road - the now inanimate previously rampaging lamppost which had savagely battered his friend - Joseph grit his teeth as the turbulent eddies of emotion bubbled up inside. He glanced at the other body in the street - the Auror upon whom he had unleashed a Killing Curse. Heartbroken and angry, Joseph couldn’t even take satisfaction in having achieved a measure of vengeance.
As twilight turned into night and the damp snow clung to his dreadlocks, Joseph determined that he would be ready to take out some more Aurors when they returned, no doubt augmented with another phalanx of Snatchers and probably Unspeakables as well. Hopefully he’d have enough time to train up some of the other Puddleby wizards a bit with proper fighting spells by tomorrow morning...

~o0o~
He hadn’t even had time for breakfast yet, but the Prime Minister was already swirling brandy in his snifter as he peered out of the window of an upper-level office in Number 10 Downing Street, a pensive expression on his features as he considered the Minister of Magic’s quandary which was also his own. His future was inextricably tied to Minister Umbridge’s, having benefited greatly from their collaboration in more ways than one.
His grip on political power in non-magical Britain was stronger even than Thatcher’s - the privatisation of large swaths of the NHS and other public institutions was progressing apace. His enemies in the opposition party were cowed - not to mention Unions smashed, whistleblowers eliminated, students, minority ethnic groups, and environmental and social justice advocates in disarray, immigrants in hiding - all terrified of clandestine reprisals, while the general public clamoured for ever more security to protect them from Terrorism and the “contagious” Living Dead.
The Bankers had never been happier! London had reached new heights of power over the past six or seven months, becoming once again the Global Centre of Finance under the Prime Minister’s watch for the first time in decades, leaving New York in the dust and giving Britain even greater leverage over the other nations of the EU.
They were on the verge of restoring the British Empire to its former glory - this time without having to pay any heed to potential interference by the Royals, the current batch being far too soft to sanction the necessary extreme measures which had brought Britain this far.
And the Prime Minister’s own personal fortunes had grown immensely - not to mention the magically secured cells in the secret basement of Number 10 full of his private playthings, upon whom he could indulge his darkest proclivities without fear of discovery or retribution. And he owed it all to Minister Umbridge.
Yet he could not deny that everything was teetering precariously on the edge of a precipice. The Prime Minister swallowed his brandy with one gulp. Jaw set in steely resolve, he returned his gaze to the Minister of Magic.
“Yes!” the Prime Minister nodded. “I concur...”
“It simply won’t do, Dolores,” he continued softly. “These rebels you speak of could destroy everything we have worked so hard for. Do whatever you believe is needed. If some non-magical communities get caught up in the net you cast for the ‘muggleborn,’ then so be it. Make an example of them if you must. I am prepared to bring armed force to bear in support of your efforts should it become necessary.”
“Thank you dear!” Dolores Umbridge replied, her voice dripping with treacle. “I had hoped to keep the disruption of muggle lives to a bare minimum, confined to only the smallest of mixed communities. But Order must be restored, and the recalcitrant simply must be punished...”
“Indeed,” the Prime Minister agreed wryly. “In any case, as long as those that I serve continue to profit by our arrangement and remain unharmed, the loss of a few Lesser ‘muggles’ is hardly worth consideration. To my mind, and the minds of my constituents, such losses are simply a calculated cost of doing business - you can’t make an omelette without breaking a few eggs after all.”
Dolores chuckled and raised her own brandy glass, reassured that her alliance was still solid, even in the face of expanding her reach to quell the insurrection. The Prime Minister had come along splendidly, having reached the necessary levels of ruthlessness for taking Power and maintaining it.
She drained her glass quickly and after making a few more hurried arrangements with the Prime Minister, Dolores bid her muggle counterpart good-day before stepping into the green flames in the hearth and taking a direct route to her next early morning appointment.

~o0o~
“How long will transport to Puddleby take then?” asked the Minister, pursing her lips, an iron look in her eyes.
Bellatrix Lestrange twirled a lock of her long black ringlets as she considered the question for a moment, calculating in her head.
“Well Dolores,” Bellatrix finally responded, her voice silky, “given the number of units required for the task and the small numbers currently available at our two remaining facilities in Britain - tapping the facility in Northern Ireland will be logistically infeasible - we will have to empty quite a few muggle graveyards and raid muggle morgues as well to bring the numbers up to inundate a small city of nearly ten thousand residents.
“But with all available personnel on hand, I believe we can have at least two thousand Inferi in place by perhaps nine this evening.”
“Excellent!” Dolores nodded brusquely. “This uprising simply cannot stand. And I have no wish to waste any more Ministry lives on the matter. The Unspeakables and Aurors will be taking a hands off approach, despite the size of the town.
“The Prime Minister assures me that he will provide the personnel and the incendiary devices to mop up the Inferi with extreme prejudice. If Dumbledore learns of the operation, I’d like to see him try and stop this one. If he dares to show up, he’ll end up facing the muggle military, and put himself under the ICW’s spotlight.”
“What about Potter and Dumbledore’s Secret Weapon?” Bellatrix pointedly asked, raising an eyebrow as she regarded Dolores cannily.
“A calculated risk!” Dolores replied, her expression sour. “Potter hasn’t been seen since he left Hogwarts - except during the retaking, in which he and his friends participated with the full backing of Dumbledore's people. I seriously doubt that Potter and his little friends destroyed the compound in Wales. I have it on good authority that he is quite squeamish about killing indiscriminately.
“And it is highly unlikely that Potter has the skill-set required to pull off the rescue of Arthur Weasley without leaving any trace whatsoever of entry at the Ministry, given his tender age. Only a supremely skilled wizard with years of experience could have managed it. I suspect Dumbledore has had Potter hidden safely away, and that he and his own forces took on the tasks.”
“Hmmm...” purred Bellatrix, “I wouldn’t count him out, Dolores! It doesn’t pay to underestimate Potter - as the Dark Lord discovered more than once, much to his detriment.”
“Yes! I quite see your point, Bellatrix,” Dolores frowned, sighing. “Regardless. Potter can’t be everywhere at once, and given the layout of Puddleby, even if he shows up and employs Dumbledore’s Secret Weapon, the Inferi will be too spread out - they won’t all be amassing in one spot conveniently for him as they did at Hogwarts.
“And even if he does manage to destroy many of them, he and Dumbledore will nonetheless be in quite a pickle when the muggle military shows up to quell the Inferi with missiles and incendiary weapons...”

~o0o~
It was Saturday, just after lunch when the Potters and their friends arrived at the Portkey arrival site on the lawn in front of the Castle. The Coven waded through the snowdrifts to the front doors. Dusting snow from their parkas as they stood in the foyer of Hogwarts, the members of the Coven gawked at the scene - apparently the festivities had already begun and costumed students were milling about.
Suits of armour and statues were bedecked with both Christmas and Halloween decorations, some with red Father Christmas caps and suits, and others done up to look like scarecrows. And it seemed that many students were happily “wearing costumes” which were clearly jinxes and hexes that under ordinary circumstances would have been grounds for retaliation against the perpetrators.
They bore a variety of features: rabbit ears and tails, bulbous noses and elephantine ears, yellow feathers and beaks (clearly “victims” of the Weasley Twins’ Canary Creams), lions’ manes, lizard scales, and much, much more. Daphne squeaked when she spotted two pupils sporting a very unique look. Luna and Ginny burst into giggles as the others gasped.
“Harry, look!” Hermione grabbed Harry’s arm and spun him around to see what everyone else was gaping it.
Harry chortled and shook his head when he saw Fred and George, both of them tomato red from head to toe. They trotted around on cloven hooves, wickedly curved horns poking up through their ginger hair, and long red tails with a barbs on the ends jutting from their backsides.
Angelina Johnson and Alicia Spinnet stood beside their respective boyfriends, clad in what could only be described as rather revealing Amazon Warrior Princess outfits, complete with golden armoured bikini style breast-plates which barely covered their ample bosoms, bare midriffs, and very skimpy white skirts which barely covered their bums.
The corners of Hermione’s lips twitched with mirth, knowing that Professor McGonagall must be having a fit.
“Excellent!” exclaimed Harry as he grinned at the Twins. “Showing your true colours at last then? I should’ve guessed that you two were the devil’s minions.”
“Oi, I think we resent that...” said Fred.
Fred’s mock outrage was interrupted by a squeal of delight.
“Parvati! Over here you lot...” yelled Padma, who was strolling through the entrance hall with a pirate who looked a lot like Neville and a pirate’s “wench” who looked a lot like Hannah Abbott. Neville and Hannah both beamed happily, excited to see their friends again.
“You look ridiculous!” Parvati giggled as she hugged her sister, who had apparently decided that a black horse tail and ears suited her best.
“Are you joking? That’s brilliant!” said Harry, grinning as he turned to Hermione. “So what about it Hermione? Feel like being a Catgirl again? Maybe in a bikini too...?”
“Shut up!” Hermione gave Harry a little shove, rolled her eyes and smiled, blushing under his eager gaze. She remembered well how much he had loved her furry tail, ears, and whiskers.
Dora smirked, her hair flourescing brightly pink as she turned to Fleur and the other members of the Coven.
“Right you lot,” she began, “let’s pop up to the Unaffiliated ‘House’ for a bit, and I’ll transfigure anyone that wants a ‘costume’...”

~o0o~
As evening fell upon the picturesque town on the coast of Somerset, the low darkening clouds above churned and the wind came up as heavy wet snow began to fall once again. Numerous seaworthy boats bobbed on the choppy waters in the quay along the river which led to the nearby sea.
The sky lit up and thunder rumbled through the small city, much to the surprise of many of its citizens who were unused to such rare weather conditions. Thunder-snow-storms weren’t entirely unheard of in parts of Britain, but they weren’t what any would call commonplace either.
Meanwhile, a street lined with oaks on the edge of town nearest the marshes was quieter than it had been much of the day, and many of its residents were still too shaken to pay the odd weather much attention.
The muggle authorities of Puddleby-on-the-Marsh had long since finished canvassing Oakridge Road and questioning local residents about the mayhem of the previous evening, after clearing away the debris. They had removed two bodies - one of which was still unidentified - to the local police-station morgue the night before, shortly after arriving within minutes of the frantic phone calls to find an oak-tree and a Jaguar still in flames, despite the heavy snowfall.
The police were quite puzzled as to how two steel lamp posts had ended up twisted in knots, as the explanations from the residents hadn’t made any sense. Several homes were apparently unoccupied, though if there had been any wizards on the local police force, they might have noticed the nearly sixty occupants crowded into Mrs Dolittle’s bungalow.
Joseph Chambers, his wife, his mother, and Mrs Dolittle did their best to keep the anxious wizards and their muggle relatives calm. They had grown more perplexed throughout the day at the apparent lack of Ministry response to their Resistance the previous evening. Though Joseph had been pleased to at least have had the chance to gather the rest of Puddleby’s wizarding population and teach a number of them how to use stunning, shielding, and explosive spells properly.
“Maybe we should just leave now,” suggested a frightened blonde witch when she looked nervously at the clock on the mantelpiece as the evening wore on, “before they do arrive!”
“And go where, Madge?” asked another witch with short auburn hair. “Eventually the Ministry will find us whether we’re on the run or not. You’ve seen what they do to muggleborn on the Wiz-Vision. We have to make a stand together with our friends somewhere, or we’re done for!”
“And Puddleby is our home,” added a tall, balding wizard. “If we don’t defend it, nobody will. I’ve sent an owl to Hogwarts. Maybe Dumbledore’ll send someone to help...”
“If they get the owl in time,” moaned an elderly, miserable looking wizard with sagging jowls. “It could take at least a couple o’ days for the owl to get there from here - especially in this weather.”
A brown-haired boy about eight years old fidgeted as he sat with his little sister, listening to the grownups. Bored, he wandered across the living room to peek between the curtains at the snow coming down in buckets outside. A flash of lightning lit up the street and a loud clap of thunder rattled the window. He fell back with a scream.
Joseph ran to the window and peered through the curtains. His face dropped in horror.
“Mum,” he yelled franticly, “get the kids and the muggles downstairs to the basement and barricade the entrance... right now!”

~o0o~
The loud dance beats rocked the Great Hall as clouds roiled across the Enchanted Ceiling, apparently releasing flurries of snow which vanished when reaching the floating candles.
Warm orange light glowed from the eyes and mouths of the grinning jack-o-lanterns under the Christmas trees, and annoyed fairies fluttered around the tall green pines, vying for attention with the hundreds of live bats flitting above which were apparently unconcerned by all of the noise.
Minerva pursed her lips in disapproval as she peered around the Hall, spying far too many girls wearing far too little for her liking. She spotted the Headmaster dancing with Professor Sinistra and groaned, rubbing at her forehead. Aurora’s thigh revealing toga was altogether unbecoming for a professor.
“Oh for heaven’s sake!” Minerva sputtered, waving her hand. “What sort of example are we setting for the First and Second Years present?”
Poppy Pomfrey smirked at Professor McGonagall and opened the bottle sitting beside her on the Staff-Table. She filled a snifter to the rim with brandy and passed it to her colleague.
“Oh go on Minerva,” Poppy giggled. “Live a little... let your hair down for a change. Goodness knows we can all use a distraction at the moment.”
Minerva glanced at Poppy and sighed.
“I suppose you’re right Poppy,” Professor McGonagall moaned. She took one last look of reproach at the scene and drained the goblet with a single gulp.

~o0o~
“I love magic,” Jennifer shouted to be heard over the Depeche Mode song currently booming in the Great Hall. “It would’ve taken me ages to look like this with makeup and make a costume!”
Daphne grinned and nodded as she danced with her girlfriend, both of them fluttering their iridescent butterfly wings as rainbow sparkles glittered on their faces and hair.
Dora beamed, overhearing as she danced nearby with Fleur.
“Yeah!” she shouted back at Jennifer and Daphne. “It’s amazing what you can do with a few transfiguration spells if you know what you’re doin’....”
“I know! It’s brilliant!” yelled Harry as he bounced by giddily with Hermione, both of them with whiskers, furry cat tails, and ears - Harry’s black and shaggy, Hermione’s bushy and tawny-brown.
Ginny was sporting a big bushy, white tipped fox-tail which was otherwise as red as her hair, and a pair of pointy red furry ears. Luna and Parvati had opted for cat tails and ears - Luna’s dirty blonde like her hair, and Parvati’s sleek and black. Ginny leaned in and whispered something in Luna’s and Parvati’s ears.
Luna and Parvati nodded and grinned as Ginny dragged them both out of the Great Hall to find someplace a bit more private for a short while. They were all distracted though when someone by the punch-bowl tapped Parvati on the shoulder.
“Lavender... I... what on earth possessed you?” gasped Parvati as her eyes were drawn to the top of Lavender’s head.
“It was all Viktor’s idea,” said Lavender, rolling her eyes at her boyfriend.
“Indeed!” said Viktor, winking impishly at his antlered girlfriend. “She is qvite sexy in antlers, no?”
“You don’t look half bad yourself with those moose-racks on your head,” Lavender tittered.
“Just be careful not to get your horns locked when you go in for a kiss,” Luna proffered sagely with a dreamy smile.

~o0o~
Albus Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled at Aurora as she begged her leave to take a breather. He sighed happily as he glanced around at the students joyously carousing in the Great Hall, glad that the Yule O’Ween Ball had turned out to be such a great success.
But his cheery thoughts were interrupted by a vibrating in one of his pockets. Frowning slightly, Dumbledore hurriedly exited the hall, slipping into the anteroom to answer the sounding alert. Retrieving the mirror from his pocket, Dumbledore regarded the agitated features of Auror Mulligan.
“Thank goodness you’re there...” gasped Mulligan. “Sir, we have a situation...”
“What seems to be the trouble, Reynard?”
“Puddleby - I’ve only just found out - the Minister - I tried Amelia first - but she’s still in Belgium...”
“Please Reynard - calm yourself and start from the beginning.”
Auror Mulligan nodded and took a deep breath before having another go, speaking in rapid-fire.
“Apparently there was a minor uprising last night in Puddleby-on-the-Marsh, Somerset. An Auror was killed, but the Auror Office and the Unspeakable Office were ordered to stand down. And I’ve only just heard through the grapevine - Inferi - a whole load of them are attacking Puddleby... right now as we speak!”
Dumbledore’s face paled. The last thing he wanted was to interrupt the Potters and their friends during their time of respite, but the Potters were the only ones capable of effectively dealing with large Inferi swarms. Dumbledore had been working on modifying a spell - one which was generally classed with the Unforgivables - for dealing specifically with this sort of situation, but it was still in development.
But with enough wizards, perhaps the problem could be resolved without calling upon the Potters just yet.
“Very well,” Dumbledore sighed. “Contact Pevensie and any other Aurors that we can trust. I will reach Delacour’s people and as many Order members as I can muster. We’ll all meet in Puddleby in fifteen minutes to evaluate and respond to the situation...”

~o0o~
Lee Jordan - who was acting as DJ - slowed things down for a set, giving couples a chance for a few close dances.
Harry breathed in Hermione’s fragrance as he held her close, swaying gently in time to the Kate Bush song currently playing in the Great Hall. As the haunting tune came to a close, and Kate Bush’s ethereal vocals faded, he gazed into Hermione’s tear-filled eyes, feeling the tug on his own heart.
“I’m alright,” she whispered, dabbing her wet cheeks with a hanky. “It’s just the song Harry.”
“Yeah... I know,” murmured Harry, nodding as he leaned in to kiss Hermione. “That one always gets me too.”
When their lips parted, Harry sensed someone approaching as the next song began. He felt a stir of trepidation at the grim expression on Professor McGonagall’s face, and he knew that their momentary escape from the travails of the world had come to an end.
“I’m very sorry Harry, Mrs Potter,” said Minerva quietly. “I have just received notice from Alastor Moody. I am afraid your services will be required...”
AN:
@ NorthwindTweak: Thank you! ... :-)
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Moments in Love