Eagle's Flight // Frarry

Year 4.11

Hello, wizards, witches, and non-binary b-

(If you don't know where I got that from, look up Thomas Sanders. You won't regret it)

If Harry thought that Aunt Petunia was loud when she screeched, that was nothing compared to the shrill wailing that exploded from the egg.

"Turn it off!" Anthony shouted.

Harry slammed it shut. "What was that?!"

"It sounded like a banshee," Padma Patil said. "Maybe you have to get past one of those."

"You might want to borrow Professor Sprout's earmuffs for that," Cho said.

Harry chuckled. "That would be a good idea."

The number of Blast-Ended Skrewts has dwindled down to ten. Despite Hagrid's efforts, they had not been satisfied and started killing each other. Hagrid brought enormous boxes for the skrewts to sleep in, but the scorpion-like creatures didn't appreciate that and the students had to round them up.

All but one was caught when Rita Skeeter made an appearance. She seemed unusually keen on asking Hagrid about the skrewts, which filled Harry with unease. If Skeeter was able to write horrible stuff about him without an interview, what would she do with one?

But he couldn't convey this without Skeeter getting suspicious, so he watched in silence as they came up with a time and place to meet up.

"Again, Hermione, I am not joining Spew."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "It's not Spew, it's S-P-E-W, the Society for-"

"-the Promotion of Elfish Welfare," Harry finished. He had heard this at least a million times.

"Please, Harry. There aren't that many members from Gryffindor, so I was hoping you could help get some people in Ravenclaw to join."

"I'll mention it," Harry said reluctantly, "but I seriously doubt there's going to be any volunteers."

"Oh, thank you!" Hermione said, seeming to choose to ignore the second part of Harry's statement. "It's the least you could do."

Harry nodded as she turned away. Yes, he'd be mentioning it, but he wouldn't be trying to persuade them. Besides, the topic slipped his mind as he focused on other things.

Professor Flitwick called a meeting in Ravenclaw and informed them of the upcoming Yule Ball. As champion, Harry was required to participate.

And who was Harry supposed to go with? Throughout the entire day, he was aware of girls giggling as they wondered which boy would ask them or which boy they themselves should ask. They weren't being very subtle, so Harry could hear his own name being mentioned.

No way, he thought. He didn't even know these people. Hell, even within his own house he didn't know many of his classmates' names, save for his dormmates and Luna. If there was any girl he would be interested in going with, it would be her, but he knew Neville would be gathering up the courage to ask her, so he didn't.

Besides, Luna gave Harry a confusing message. "Don't worry. He'll come around."

Harry instinctively looked toward the Gryffindor table, where Fred was chatting with George and Lee. Fred lifted his eyes and met Harry's gaze briefly. Harry smiled and ended up spitting out pumpkin juice, which dripped down his chin. He ducked his head down, embarrassed, not seeing Fred's grin.

(emmaduerrewatson on Tumblr)

Harry was asked a few times, but he always politely declined. Sometimes, he received an anonymous letter, which he would write back with a negative.

With all of this going on, the egg was all but forgotten. Harry had it safely put away in his trunk, wary of the wailing.

"Professor?" Harry approached his Head of House one evening. "I have a question about the Yule Ball."

"Yes?" Flitwick looked at him expectantly.

"Do I have to go with- with a girl?"

"All the champions are required to open, Mr. Potter."

"No, no, I know that. I mean, does it have to be a girl I ask out?"

Flitwick seemed to catch on to what Harry was implying. "Mr. Potter, the only rule is that third years and below cannot attend unless they had been invited by an older student."

Harry felt relieved. "Okay, thank you." He went to rejoin Luna and the pair headed to the Ravenclaw Tower.

Flitwick smiled. It seemed like he might win this bet...

"Evil, he is," Ron said bitterly from where he was making a castle out of his Exploding Snap pack. "Springing a test on us on the last day. Ruining the last bit of term with a whole load of studying."

"Mmm... you're not exactly straining yourself, though, are you?" said Hermione, giving him a disapproving glance.

Ron placed two cards on top of his card castle, and it promptly blew up, singeing his eyebrows.

"Nice look, Ron... go well with your dress robes, that will." Fred and George had arrived.

"So," said Fred, "you got a date for the ball yet?"

"Nope," said Ron.

"Well, you'd better hurry up, or all the good ones will be gone," said Fred.

"Who're you going with, then?" said Ron.

"Angelina," George said.

"They're... not in Gryffindor," Fred said haltingly.

Hermione gave him a look. "Which house are they in?" she asked.

"Ravenclaw," Fred answered.

Hermione didn't seem surprised by this answer as she nodded and turned away.

Fred stood up and yawned. "I'm going to bed. Come on, George."

George followed his brother, grinning all the way. "So who is the lucky Ravenclaw, hm?" he teased.

"You know who!" Fred groaned, wishing he had not brought up the topic.

"Last time I checked, You-Know-Who was a Slytherin." George let out an exaggerated gasp. "Oh my gosh! You're going with You-Know-Who!"

"No, you dummy! Harry!" Fred clapped his hands over his mouth.

"So when did you ask him?"

"I- er- haven't yet."

George coughed in surprise. "But you said-"

"I know what I said! But would he say yes? Everyone's saying how he's declined all those girls."

George slung an arm around Fred's shoulders. "And what, dear brother of mine, does that tell you?"

"Er-"

"Either A: he's not interested in the ball or B: he's not interested in girls."

"So A?"

George facepalmed. "No, you stupid great prat. Well, probably, but he has to go since he's a champion. He likes boys."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes! Tomorrow, you are going to ask him. No ifs, ands, or buts, got it?"

"Okay, okay!" Fred shoved his brother. "No need to shout."

"There's always a need to shout!" George shouted.

"George!"

"Fred!"

"Oi!"

There is no way the professors don't make bets on who will end up with whom. I mean, really, could you imagine a betting pool going on (in canon or in fanfics)? I certainly could