Status: I am a terrible human being who went on hiatus without telling anybody! But I'm back now and writing more for you wonderful people!

In Her Eyes Lies Her Heart

A Quick Switch

Despite the very heavy load of homework that the fourth years had been given for the holidays Harry was in no mood to work when term ended, and spent the week leading up to Christmas enjoying himself as fully as possible along with everyone else. Gryffindor Tower was hardly less crowded now than during term-time; it seemed to have shrunk slightly too, as its inhabitants were being so much rowdier than usual. Fred and George had had a great success with their Canary Creams, and for the first couple of days of the holidays, people kept bursting into feather all over the place. Before long, however, all the Gryffindors had learned to treat food anybody else offered them with extreme caution, in case it had a Canary Cream concealed in the center, and George confided to Harry that he and Fred were now working on developing something else. Harry made a mental note never to accept so much as a crisp from Fred and George in future. He still hadn’t forgotten Dudley and the Ton-Tongue Toffee.
Snow was falling thickly upon the castle and its grounds now. The pale blue Beauxbatons carriage looked like a large, chilly, frosted pumpkin next to the iced gingerbread house that was Hagrid’s cabin, while the Durmstrang ship’s portholes were glazed with ice, the rigging white with frost. The house-elves down in the kitchen were outdoing themselves with a series of rich, warming stews and savory puddings, and only Fleur Delacour seemed to be able to find anything to complain about.
“It is too ‘eavy, all zis ‘Ogwarts food,” they heard her saying grumpily as they left the Great Hall behind her one evening (Ron skulking behind Harry, keen not to be spotted by Fleur). “I will not fit into my dress robes!”
“Oooh there’s a tragedy,” Hermione snapped as Fleur went out into the entrance hall. “She really thinks a lot of herself, that one, doesn’t she?”
“Hermione - who are you going to the ball with?” said Ron.
He kept springing this question on her, hoping to startle her into a response by asking it when she least expected it. However, Hermione merely frowned and said, “I’m not telling you, you’ll just make fun of me.”
“You’re joking, Weasley!” said Malfoy, behind them. “You’re not telling me someone’s asked that to the ball? Not the long-molared Mudblood?”
Harry and Ron both whipped around, but Hermione said loudly, waving to somebody over Malfoys shoulder, “Hello, Professor Moody!”
Malfoy went pale and jumped backward, looking wildly around for Moody, but he was still up at the staff table, finishing his stew.
“Twitchy little ferret, aren’t you, Malfoy?” said Eve scathingly. Malfoy scowled at her, then seemed to notice that she was not a Gryffindor. He eyed her Beauxbatons uniform, and Harry that he saw something in Malfoy’s gaze that unnerved him. However, when Malfoy stalked off in bad temper, Harry, Hermione, Eve, and Ron went up the marble staircase laughing heartily.
“Hermione,” said Ron, looking sideways at her, suddenly frowning, “your teeth…”
“What about them?” she said.
“Well, they’re different… I’ve just noticed…”
“Of course they are - did you expect me to keep those fangs Malfoy gave me?”
“No, I mean, they’re different to how they were before he put that hex on you… They’re all… straight and - and normal-sized.”
Hermione suddenly smiled very mischievously, and Harry noticed it too: It was a very different smile from the one he remembered.
“Well… when I went up to Madam Pomfrey to get them shrunk, she held up a mirror and told me to stop her when they were back to how they normally were,” she said. “And I just… let her carry on a bit.” She smiled even more widely.
“Mum and Dad won’t be too pleased. I’ve been trying to persuade them to let me shrink them for ages, but they wanted me to carry on with my braces. You know, they’re dentists, they just don’t think teeth and magic should - look! Pigwidgeons back!”
Ron’s tiny owl was twittering madly on the top of the icicle-laden banisters, a scroll of parchment tied to his leg. People passing him were pointing and laughing, and a group of third- year girls paused and said, “Oh look at the weeny owl! Isn’t he cute?”
“Stupid little feathery git!” Ron hissed, hurrying up the stairs and snatching up Pigwidgeon. “You bring letters to the addressee! You don’t hang around showing off!”
Pigwidgeon hooted happily, his head protruding over Ron’s fist. The third-year girls all looked very shocked.
“Clear off!” Ron snapped at them, waving the fist holding Pigwidgeon, who hooted more happily than ever as he soared through the air. “Here - take it, Harry,” Ron added in an undertone as the third-year girls scuttled away looking scandalized. He pulled Sirius’s reply off Pigwidgeons leg. Harry pocketed it, and they hurried back to Gryffindor Tower to read it.
Everyone in the common room was much too busy in letting off more holiday steam to observe what anyone else was up to. Ron, Harry, Eve, and Hermione sat apart from everyone else by a dark window that was gradually filling up with snow, and Harry read out:
Dear Harry,
Congratulations on getting past the Horntail. Whoever put your name in that goblet shouldn’t be feeling too happy right now! I was going to suggest a Conjunctivitus Curse, as a dragon’s eyes are its weakest point –

“That’s what Krum did!” Hermione whispered –
But your way was better, I’m impressed.
Don’t get complacent, though, Harry. You’ve only done one task; whoever put you in for the tournament’s got plenty more opportunity if they’re trying to hurt you. Keep your eyes open - particularly when the person we discussed is around and concentrate on keeping yourself out of trouble. Keep in touch, I still want to hear about anything unusual.

“He sounds exactly like Moody,” said Harry quietly, tucking the letter away again inside his robes. “‘Constant vigilance!’ You’d think I walk around with my eyes shut, banging off the walls…”
“Well, if you really think about it….” Began Eve, jokingly. Harry threw Sirius’s letter at her.
“Oh, shut up Evie,” he said, smiling.
“But he’s right, Harry,” said Hermione, “you have still got two tasks to do. You really ought to have a look at that egg, you know, and start working out what it means…”
“Hermione, he’s got ages!” snapped Ron. “Want a game of chess, Harry?”
“Yeah, okay,” said Harry. Then, spotting the look on Hermione’s face, he said, “Come on, how’m I supposed to concentrate with all this noise going on? I won’t even be able to hear the egg over this lot.”
“Oh I suppose not,” she sighed, and she sat down to watch their chess match, which culminated in an exciting checkmate of Ron’s, involving a couple of recklessly brave pawns and a very violent bishop.

Harry awoke very suddenly on Christmas Day. Wondering what had caused his abrupt return to consciousness, he opened his eyes, and saw something with very large, round, green eyes staring back at him in the darkness, so close they were almost nose to nose.
“Dobby!” Harry yelled, scrambling away from the elf so fast he almost fell out of bed. “Don’t do that!”
“Dobby is sorry, sir!” squeaked Dobby anxiously, jumping backward with his long fingers over his mouth. “Dobby is only wanting to wish Harry Potter ‘Merry Christmas’ and bring him a present, Sir! Harry Potter did say Dobby could come and see him sometimes, sir!”
“It’s okay,” said Harry, still breathing rather faster than usual, while his heart rate returned to normal. “Just - just prod me or something in future, all right, don’t bend over me like that…”
Harry pulled back the curtains around his four-poster, took his glasses from his bedside table, and put them on. His yell had awoken Ron, Seamus, Dean, and Neville. All of them were peering through the gaps in their own hangings, heavy-eyed and tousle-haired.
“Someone attacking you, Harry?” Seamus asked sleepily.
“No, it’s just Dobby,” Harry muttered. “Go back to sleep.”
“Nah… presents!” said Seamus, spotting the large pile at the foot of his bed. Ron, Dean, and Neville decided that now they were awake they might as well get down to some present-opening too. Harry turned back to Dobby, who was now standing nervously next to Harry’s bed, still looking worried that he had upset Harry. There was a Christmas bauble tied to the loop on top of his tea cozy.
“Can Dobby give Harry Potter his present?” he squeaked tentatively.
“‘Course you can,” said Harry. “Er… I’ve got something for you too.”
It was a lie; he hadn’t bought anything for Dobby at all, but he quickly opened his trunk and pulled out a particularly knobbly rolled-up pair of socks. They were his oldest and foulest, mustard yellow, and had once belonged to Uncle Vernon. The reason they were extra-knobbly was that Harry had been using them to cushion his Sneakoscope for over a year now. He pulled out the Sneako-scope and handed the socks to Dobby, saying, “Sorry, I forgot to wrap them…”
But Dobby was utterly delighted.
“Socks are Dobby’s favorite, favorite clothes, sir!” he said, ripping off his odd ones and pulling on Uncle Vernon’s. “I has seven now, sir… But sir…” he said, his eyes widening, having pulled both socks up to their highest extent, so that they reached to the bottom of his shorts, “they has made a mistake in the shop, Harry Potter, they is giving you two the same!”
“Ah, no, Harry, how come you didn’t spot that?” said Ron, grinning over from his own bed, which was now strewn with wrapping paper. “Tell you what, Dobby - here you go - take these two, and you can mix them up properly. And here’s your sweater.”
He threw Dobby a pair of violet socks he had just unwrapped, and the handknitted sweater Mrs. Weasley had sent, Dobby looked quite overwhelmed.
“Sir is very kind!” he squeaked, his eyes brimming with tears again, bowing deeply to Ron. “Dobby knew sir must be a great wizard, for he is Harry Potter’s greatest friend, but Dobby did not know that he was also as generous of spirit, as noble, as selfless -”
“They’re only socks,” said Ron, who had gone slightly pink around the ears, though he looked rather pleased all the same. “Wow, Harry -” He had just opened Harry’s present, a Chudley Cannon hat. “Cool!” He jammed it onto his head, where it clashed horribly with his hair.
Dobby now handed Harry a small package, which turned out to be - socks.
“Dobby is making them himself, sir!” the elf said happily. “He is buying the wool out of his wages, sir!”
The left sock was bright red and had a pattern of broomsticks upon it; the right sock was green with a pattern of Snitches.
“They’re… they’re really… well, thanks, Dobby,” said Harry, and he pulled them on, causing Dobby’s eyes to leak with happiness again.
“Dobby must go now, sir, we is already making Christmas dinner in the kitchens!” said Dobby, and he hurried out of the dormitory, waving good-bye to Ron and the others as he passed.
Harry’s other presents were much more satisfactory than Dobby’s odd socks – with the obvious exception of the Dursleys’, which consisted of a single tissue, an all-time low - Harry supposed they too were remembering the Ton-Tongue Toffee.
Hermione had given Harry a book called Quidditch Teams of Britain and Ireland; Ron, a bulging bag of Dungbombs; Sirius, a handy penknife with attachments to unlock any lock and undo any knot; and Hagrid, a vast box of sweets including all Harrys favorites: Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans, Chocolate Frogs, Drooble’s Best Blowing Gum, and Fizzing Whizbees. There was also, of course, Mrs. Weasley’s usual package, including a new sweater (green, with a picture of a dragon on it - Harry supposed Charlie had told her all about the Horntail), and a large quantity of homemade mince pies.
Harry and the others began to get dressed when Eve waltzed into the room, arms laden with presents. Neville, Dean, and Seamus all started at the sight of a girl just walking into their dorm like she owned the place. Neville, who had not yet pulled up his pants tried to run to the opposite side of the bed to hide himself, but tripped when his pants wrapped around his ankles, and he fell flat on his face. Eve kept her eyes tactfully averted and dumped the presents onto Ron’s bed.
“Merry Christmas, boys,” she said brightly, sorting through the packages.
“Merry Christmas,” chorused the others. Dean was still staring slightly, but Seamus pulled him along to get breakfast. Neville followed them in a rush, still blushing madly.
“You sure know how to make an entrance,” said Harry, chuckling, pulling his shirt the rest of the way on.
“Well, you know me, I’m always one for the dramatics,” she replied, tossing him the smaller of the two packages, leaving the larger with Ron. Ron, who had dressed faster than Harry, opened his present first.
He ripped off the paper to reveal a clothes box. He tore off the lid to reveal a new set of dress robes in deepest green.
“Charlie told me your mother sent those awful old dress robes that used to belong to your uncle, so I ordered some for you. I thought the green would go nicely with your hair.” Eve watched Ron nervously.
Ron had pulled the robes from the box and was staring at them, his face inscrutable.
“If they aren’t right, I can take them back to the shop. You can wear the frilly set if you like-“ Eve said, but Ron cut her off. In a most uncharacteristic fashion, Ron had leapt from the bed and hugged Eve.
“Thank you. Thank you, so much,” Ron said. Eve looked extremely disconcerted, and she looked at Harry wide eyed over Ron’s shoulder, and mouthed ‘What do I do?’. Harry laughed silently at her confusion. Seeing Eve unsure of a situation was priceless. But after a few moments, when Ron was still hugging her, Harry cleared his throat and Ron let her go, looking sheepish. He went back to admire his new dress robes, and Harry picked up his own package, swallowing back an odd feeling in his chest; a feeling that made him want to throw something at Ron.
He looked down at the parcel in his hands. It was small and rectangular, rather like a wand box from Olivanders. He opened it, and was half right. Lying in the box was a wand, the same length as his own. It was dark and smooth, and had a comfortable handle that settled easily into his palm. He lifted it experimentally, and felt the slightest warmth run through his hand.
“That wand was your Father’s, Harry,” Eve said. Harry froze, then turned to her.
“How-?” He asked.
“The night Voldemort tried to kill you, I went to your house,” Eve said. “I heard what had happened, but I couldn’t believe it. I had to see for myself.” Her red eyes seemed haunted. “I was the first one there, and scoured the remains of your house. I found your fathers wand in the living room. Its Mahogany and Dragon Heartstring, a good dueling wand.”
Harry looked down into the box and pulled the second item out. It was a feather quill, rather like Rita Skeeter’s quick quotes quill. Except this one didn’t have the sharp pointed nib like Skeeter’s, and rather than acid green, the feather was a light emerald green, like Harry’s eyes.
“The quill was your mother’s. It was my wedding present to her, she always liked writing lengthy letters when I was abroad working for the resistance, keeping me up to date on everyone.” Harry looked closer and saw that the top of the grip, where the feather attatched, had a silver stag’s head, whose delicate antlers stretched up into the feather. “It’s similar to a quick quotes quill. You can dictate your papers and letters to it, and over time it will learn your way of speaking, and will write what youre thinking. It will even write in your handwriting if you teach it to.” Eve had a definite look of sadness in her eyes now. Harry was overwhelmed with these heirlooms of his parents. Eve seemed to have been close to his parents, and the fact that she was willing to part with the last remnants of her friends made Harry’s heart swell with gratitude. He suddenly felt very ashamed for not even thinking to get her anything, so he too walked up to Eve and hugged her. This time, she seemed to be ready, and she hugged him back lightly before stepping back. She pulled her gloves up higher on her arms and waited for the boys to pack their things away.
Harry, Eve, and Ron met up with Hermione in the common room, and they went down to breakfast together. They spent most of the morning in Gryffindor Tower, where everyone was enjoying their presents, then returned to the Great Hall for a magnificent lunch, which included at least a hundred turkeys and Christmas puddings, and large piles of Cribbage’s Wizarding Crackers.
They went out onto the grounds in the afternoon; the snow was untouched except for the deep channels made by the Durmstrang and Beauxbatons students on their way up to the castle. Hermione chose to watch Harry, Eve, and the Weasleys’ snowball fight rather than join in, her nose stuck in a book that looked to be ancient and handwritten. Harry suspected that it was Eve’s gift to her. At five o’clock Hermione said was going back upstairs to get ready for the ball, and bid them all farewell. Eve decided to accompany her, and Harry heard her offer to do Hermione’s hair. Eve almost sounded like a normal teenage girl.
“What, you need three hours?” said Ron, looking at her incredulously and paying for his lapse in concentration when a large snowball, thrown by George, hit him hard on the side of the head. “Who’re you going with?” he yelled after Hermione, but she just waved and disappeared up the stone steps into the castle.
There was no Christmas tea today, as the ball included a feast, so at seven o’clock, when it had become hard to aim properly, the others abandoned their snowball fight and trooped back to the common room. The Fat Lady was sitting in her frame with her friend Violet from downstairs, both of them extremely tipsy, empty boxes of chocolate liqueurs littering the bottom other picture.
“Lairy fights, that’s the one!” she giggled when they gave the password, and she swung forward to let them inside.
Harry, Ron, Seamus, Dean, and Neville changed into their dress robes up in their dormitory, all of them looking very self-conscious, all except Ron, who surveyed himself in the long mirror in the corner with a satisfied look on his face. His relief at having decent robes were apparent, and the deep green did suit him much better than the ruffled set he almost had to wear.
“I still can’t work out how you two got the best-looking girls in the year,” muttered Dean.
“Animal magnetism,” said Ron happily, adjusting his collar as they walked down to the common room.
The common room looked strange, full of people wearing different colors instead of the usual mass of black. Parvati was waiting for Harry at the foot of the stairs. She looked very pretty indeed, in robes of shocking pink, with her long dark plait braided with gold, and gold bracelets glimmering at her wrists. Harry was relieved to see that she wasn’t giggling, but then got a bad feeling at the look on her face.
“You - er - look nice,” he said awkwardly.
“Thanks,” she said, distractedly, “I’ve been looking for you everywhere. Padma just told me that a Durmstrang boy asked her to the ball yesterday. She fancies him, so she said yes, completely forgetting she’d said she would go with Ron.” Harry’s heart sunk. Ron was so much happier with the prospect of the ball now that he didn’t look like he was wearing a dress. This would strike a hard blow.
“Damn,” Harry said, running his hand through his hair. “Now what am I going to do?” He said, irritated.
“About what?” said Eve, coming down the stairs from the girl’s dormitory, still dressed in her muggle clothes from earlier. “What’s going on?”
Harry filled her in, and she looked over at Ron, chatting happily with Seamus and Dean and their dates.
“I see… Hold on a moment,” Eve said, and pulled Pavarti to the side and began whispering quickly to her. Pavarti listened, and looked at Ron with an appraising look, then nodded, smiling slightly, and they came back over, as did Ron.
“Okay, Ron, you are now going to the ball with Pavarti.” Eve said, her tone suggesting that there was no room for argument, but Ron didn’t seem to care. He just smiled nervously at Pavarti. Harry, on the other hand, did care.
“What am I supposed to do without a date?” asked Harry, the pitch of his voice rising in panic. “I have to open the dance!”
“Leave it to me,” Eve said, calmly. “Just go into the Hall when its time.”
Harry went to protest, but she gave him a look that clearly said Just do what I say, then she hurried out of the portrait hole.
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Sorry it took so long! Who knew Architecture was such a time suck? But Hopefully I'll have another chapter out soon :)

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