The Halloween ball—Harry had to admit—would kick Hogwart's ass.

It was, after all, their holiday.

Gold, white, and orange streamers hung down in every inch of the ceiling, each in different lengths—candy corn rain that drew even more attention to the invisible, fog filled dancefloor.

From the basketball hoops hung spider webs, connecting with every tangible object. It was both a maze of horror, and a spacious wonderland with lights and (inaccurate) statues of goblins, ghost, vampires and witches.

The gang arrived late, Darren having to help Linda with the final touches on each of their costumes.

For the guys, Linda had made simple black t-shirts that read 'Not a monster' in big bold letters on the front and back.

Darren, the makeup artist (or facial painter as he preferred) had taken hours to perfect Linda's ironic idea for their outfits.

For Mike's face, he used detailed brushstrokes and shadowing to resemble werewolf hair.

Ron's was done much quicker, Darren having found it easy to paint stitches dripping with blood and making a cardboard headband of electric bolts—the first redhead Frankenstein.

After Mike's, Harry's had taken the longest. Darren had made him the famous Halloween skeleton, with detailed cracks and shadows. Unless touched, one would think the young teen's face had been pulled clean off.

Darren had gone for a chalky, pale vampire makeup for himself. The tricky part had been the fangs since he spent what felt like hours painting the area around his mouth with realistic trickles of blood.

Hermione and Linda, on the other hand, were a different story.

Harry stopped dead in his tracks with a single look at the embellished beauties.

Hermione's plain aqua blue dress had morphed overnight into a mermaid-cut halter dress that hugged the body. It had frills at the breast and on the hem, accompanied by a cinching of the gleaming blue material strategically to show off the embodiment of plastic seashells and pearls on the headband.

She was beautiful, infatuating, and dangerous. Touching the gown was as tempting as running a hand through cold sea water.

Linda finished her own fairy outfit by adding a layer of sheer, translucent fabric to the upper part of the dress and the sleeves. Lifting her arms and twirling slowly, she showed off her graceful fairy attire to them before entering the Great Hall. Her hair was in a fishtail braid, adorned with hair clips of leaves and glittering butterflies.

Black eyeliner rimmed her eyes, giving her a punk princess look.

Harry walked alongside Darren, feeling for Calder's glasses in his pocket. As determined to have fun as he was, it was better safe than sorry.

Hermione nudged Linda forward, bumping her into Mike.

"Careful," he said, grabbing her arm and guiding her further inside. "Don't want to fall in those heels."

Even with them on, she was as petite as ever, especially walking alongside Harris.

Music blared loud enough to be heard in the parkway. There were smiling faces and dancing all around, but Harry didn't really want to be there.

He watched as Hermione was pulled up and out from her chair by Emily and Andrew, the duo inviting her to dance with them. He watched all the way up to the point where Emily left, leaving a beaming witch to dance alone with the muggle.

Ron—Harry thought—should've been more mad, but he lost all train of thought as he joined the crowd of marveled wizards at the snack table.

"They pop in your mouth Harry!"

"Pop Rocks, Ron. Pop Rocks."

The redhead was soon lost to Harry along with other wizards swept away by the sea of Lemon drops, Nerds, candy corn, Laffy Taffys, Fun Dips, Skittles, Ring Pops, Bottle Pops, and all things gummy and chocolate.

Another crowd stood transfixed around the green, large nosed, wart covered, red eyed, animatronic witch as she stirred the large plastic cauldron, cackling in a window-breaking shriek.

"Now that's just racist," Seamus said. He elbowed Dean who, like most others, laughed at the atrocity. "Stuff it, muggle born. Oi! Potter, got your phone on you? We need a picture of this."

"I don't know mate, she sort of looks like Umbridged, wouldn't you say?"

"How rude! The muggles worked really hard on this party. No need to insult the decoration."

"They're costumes really are terrible. Those robes and hats wouldn't even be found in my grandmother's closet."

"For Merlin's sake, since when do all our noses look like Snape's? Let's change into teared up pants and backwards hats and chant I'm a muggle around the place."

"Think I can get that muggle girl to dance with me?" Seamus asked. "What are muggle women into?"

"Not into you, that's for sure."

Emily and Jesse—the boy who'd helped Harry back at the fair—walked over to the crowd.

"Like it? Emily asked. "Personally I like the werewolf one better . Witches are so last week. Everyone is talking about that new movie now."

"Can a werewolf hex you?"

"No.."

"Levitate objects? Apparate?"

"Appa...Er—no."

"Turn into something other than a furrball?"

Jesse laughed, not sensing the mellow hostility. "You must not know a lot about werewolfs."

Another wizard opened his mouth before Dean covered it. "Yeah. We don't. Good talk though."

"Emily!" Called Andrew. "Where'd you order the pumpkins? I thought we agreed on the animatronics budget."

"Pumpkins? What are you talking about. I got them at them from the patch."

"Okay. Right. So you care to explain why they're moving?"

"Moving?"

"Mouths, eyes. Nice prank, but hanging them on the ceiling was too far. You could've fallen, and then who'd be in trouble?"

"You lost me."

Andrew rubbed his temples, then grabbed Emily's head, guiding it in the direction. Five jack o'lanterns floated eight meters in midair, faces contorting into different comical expressions. This wasn't good, Harry thought.

He rushed over to the scene. Luckily the muggles were oblivious to the more than obvious magical prank.

Harry went around the floating spectacle to the janitor's closet behind it. He opened the cracked door, finding four students— two Hufflepuff, one Slytherin, and another Harry wasn't too sure about—wands lifted, levitating the vegetables.

"Get out," he said.

"What?" the Slytherin smirked. "Can't have Halloween without magic."

"Now."

"Fine."

The pumpkins crashed down and shattered, it's insides splattering several meters.

The wizards scrambled, leaving a mind blown Andrew and Emily to question reality.

Harry went back to the snack table with Ron and Darren. "Join the schools, they said."

"Were those pumpkins just—"

"It would be safe, they said," Harry interrupted Darren.

His eyes took in each ghoul and goblin in the room, finally resting on the cheerleading squad. While in uniform, they wore deathly pale makeup and blood red lipstick with cheap, plastic fangs. The undead squad did not have Amber among them.

He walked to the snack table closest to them, his arms swinging shakily by his side as he tried to force his steps to be natural.

Straining his ear, Harry pretended to be reading the labels on the muggle candy.

Henry chatted playfully with Ajah, the young wizard having to withhold vomit when their conversation took a turn to Henry's muscle size. Just when he was running out of labels to inspect after withstanding the cackles and indiscreet whispers about Emily's hair, the talk finally turned Amber's way.

"Geez, to be upset is one thing, but to not show up to the party at all? What a nutter."

"I never liked her much anyway," said Ajah. "But honestly! To consider saying yes to that loser?"

"Dead from the neck up, I'll tell you."

"From the blond to that. Have you seen Draco's legs? And those lips."

Harry swallowed vomit.

"I think you ladies were too hard on her," Henry told them. "I mean—" He began to laugh—"what other daft could possible stand atop the pyramid?"

Harry walked away, the words of the cheerleaders still fresh in his ears. For the first time in his life, he wanted to punch a girl, but those feelings didn't compare to what he wanted to do to Henry.

Guilt drowned him. Harry felt like a first year all over again. The day Hermione had ran to the bathroom, nearly killed by a troll because of their harsh words.

Not that any words had left his lips. It was even worse—his actions. Because of him Amber had lost what made Amber Amber. Her friends, popularity, cheer, boys.

Where was she?

Harry's eyes lit up thinking to the one place where all females hid in times of distress.

He needed backup.

"Is it empty?"

Hermione rolled her eyes.

"She doesn't want you in there, or me, apparently."

"I'm taking that to mean it's empty."

With one deep breath, Harry opened the door to the girl's loo.

It was cold inside, with nothing to show other than pristine sinks, various mirrors, some littered with forgotten makeup products and empty perfume bottles.

All but one stall was closed.

Harry knocked. "Amber?"

"Go away."

"Please unlock the door."

"No."

"Why?"

Silence.

"Alohomora!" Harry pulled the door open.

"Hey!" Amber was atop the toilet lid, knees pulled up to her neck, mascara running down her cheeks.

Despite her protest, Harry came closer. The whole time, the cheerleader blushed madly. Having people see her cry wasn't her style.

"Here, before all your face melts off," Harry handed her a tissue for the snot and dripping mascara.

She took it. "Jerk."

"I'm only joking. It's okay."

Amber wasn't looking at him.

"You got to see me half naked and beat up at the hospital. Trust me, you're winning the beauty contest."

This got a smile out of her. "I've always been winning."

It faded as quickly as it came.

"I heard them talking, your, um, ex-friends."

She looked at him. "I'm sorry," Harry said. "It's all my fault. It was wrong to make you my human slave and accidentally making them hate you."

Another smile, this time a sad one, appeared on her face. "You're right about the human slave part, but the rest...It's nothing to do with you. I guess I just...Ever since that day at the camp, remember? The things we talked about, then I got to be around your friends and, well they're different from mine. They're fun, and honest. They never judge each other."

Amber stood up and walked to the sinks. Harry followed.

She washed her skin and removed all the makeup. Her eyes were still swollen from crying, but Harry liked Amber better this way. Her face looked softer and her brown eyes and pink cheeks shone through.

"Then what's the problem? If you hate your friends so much, then just be with Linda, Mike, and Darren."

"That's it," Amber said, drying her face off. "That's the problem. I can't just be with them. They hate me."

"Why would they hate you?"

"Because she's the world's biggest brat, that's why," Mike said, coming in with Linda and Darren. How long they'd been standing by the door, Harry did not know. "She's done nothing but bully us and everyone around school ever since I can remember."

Harry was about to interject, but Amber spoke. "Don't say anything, Harry. I deserve it."

Amber's gaze shifted to the ground as Mike kept talking. "She's vile, cruel, and the only signs of humanity she ever showed were that day at the fair," Mike said, then sighed. Amber crossed her arms, bracing herself for the final insult.

"And every day after."

She looked up. "What?"

"What my brute, and slightly heartless friend is trying to say," Darren elaborated. "Is that—thank God—you're not the same Amber we knew and hated."

"Contrary to popular belief, I'm not heartless, and the new Amber is welcome to join us on the dance floor." Mike grabbed her arm. "Come on, we have two extra t-shirts made before Linda and the witch decide to go as the woodland duo."

Before she or Harry knew what the hell was happening, she was being dragged away while Darren and Linda discussed makeup techniques for Amber's costume and Mike winking goodbye to Harry as the muggles stole her date.

Little did Harry know that joining Darren and Ron in the inharmonious wolf whistling tune that serenaded Mike and Linda's dance would result in the world's biggest slap of Karma.

Why had the music suddenly turned slow? Why had everyone else scattered to dance awkwardly with a stranger or happily with a date? Why was Amber suddenly standing alone, innocently looking around the room for a way out? And more importantly, why the hell were Harry's feet moving towards her?!

Ron and Darren hung back by the snack table, their snide comments still audible from across the room.

"Our little witch is growing up, Ron."

"I still remember when he drenched her in soda. Where have those days gone?"

Amber's eyes met his just half a meter's length away.

He took a deep breath. "Amber I—"

"Thought you'd never ask."

She grabbed his hand and smiled. Her touch was electric, and her shimmering brown eyes still beautiful under that possessed rag doll makeup.

Harry let her guide him to the dance floor. The sounds of Darren and Ron had become mute. Everything but the soft music and Amber's soft breathing was an inexistent soundwave.

Her hands went to his shoulders and his to her waist.

Directionless, they glided.

Silence was welcome, but Amber spoke softly, as if not to break the moment. "I wonder if Darren planned this."

"What?"

"Our costumes."

"I don't follow."

"A skeleton and a rag doll? Nightmare Before Christmas?"

Harry just stared back confused.

"I'll have to show it to you sometime."

Amber paused and frowned.

"What's wrong?"

She shook her head and giggled. "With your dancing? Everything."

"No, really. You're troubled?"

She sighed. "I just don't want you to leave. You'll come visit, won't you? When the whole trouble in magic land clears up?"

When. Her hope was poisonously naïve.

Cautiously, Harry pulled her in closer. Her skin was soft—Harry noticed—as Amber's arms wrapped around his neck. "Yes."

The moment lasted an eternity. Frozen in a picture of black and white, one side lighter than the other. Wizard and muggle freely trapped in the joyously tragic slow dance of the century.

Once Upon a Dream played softly in the background. So far, the only song Harry could somewhat recognize from his childhood. It was tainted. Gloomy and slow. Maybe there was a hint of romance behind its altered, deep, melodic tune, but to Harry it felt more like a foreboding.

The dance ended.

This was the part where the credits were supposed to roll. The happily-ever-after to the family friendly movie. Though, Harry knew the fun wasn't over.

Walking back to the corner where his friends had gathered, all seemed well. Linda peer pressured Darren to ask somebody—anybody—to dance. Mike taunted him to the brink until Darren kidnapped Linda and forcefully twirled her on the dance floor while everyone but Mike applauded.

They both returned to the snack table, laughing and panting for air. "And that, Mike," Hermione advised. "Is why you're an idiot."

Soon Harry found himself holding Amber's hand as they each lifted a cup of punch in the air. "To Amber," Mike said. "The newest member of the freak squad!"

"To Amber!" they chanted.

They huddled together as Amber pulled out her phone for a picture.

"One day," Mike said. "They will invent a word just for Amber's obsession with self-photography."

"It's not often my makeup looks this good," she said. Darren smiled at her.

"Hermione," Linda said, pointing. "What do you think is going on over there?"

Many heads, including Harry's, had already turned towards the small commotion, but not many were taking notice. Some students walked further towards the dance entrance.

As usual, Harry saw Emily and Andrew attempting to handle the situation. Just when Harry was about to turn back, the word owl reached his ears amongst the excited chatter.

Andrew looked more irritated than usual when shouting, "Everyone, go back to the dance!"

"Emily, go get a broom or something. Persistent, this little one. It's like she really wants to join the party."

"Hedwig."

"Who?" Darren asked.

The wizards rushed to the front, but there was no way around the crowd.

"The back entrance," Hermione told him.

This time when Harry ran, the muggles followed.

Amber tried to catch up to Harry. "What's going on?"

"My owl. She's trying to break in."

"Your what?"

"Wizard mail," Ron said.

"Ah, yes. Thank you for that extensive clarification."

Twisting and turning through the corridors, Harry prayed this was from Cole. Maybe he's finally gotten through to him. Cole would stop the fighting before it began. He knew it. He knew they were good, and Harry knew Cole was not a killer.

The hall was empty. A broom poked out from the dance hall. A lousy attempt to shoo the snowflake owl away. It squawked and pecked viciously at the flustered teens.

"Hedwig!"

The owl turned and flew to Harry's shoulder. She hooted once more, as if complaining about the lack of cooperation in the establishment.

"There, there," Harry said, pulling off the note on her leg.

"Bloody hell, that's a new kind of crazy," Mike said.

Come on Quinn.

Harry unrolled it and read aloud. "Fight at the bell."

Hedwig fluttered away. Where she was headed, Harry did not know. The soft touch of her wings on his face was still imprinted like a burning omen.

A warning or a threat. Harry was betting on the latter.

"The bell?" Amber asked. "What does that mean?"

Harry shook his head. "Fight as in attack, I'm guessing. The witch hunters are coming at the bell—"looking back down at the piece of paper and frowning—"what the hell is the bell?"

The answer came quicker than he expected. An ear piercing ring—much like that of sirens above water—spread throughout the room, the hall, the entire building. Lights flashed white and red and crowds poured into the corridors, running for the exit.

"Fire!" someone yelled.

People laughed and chattered, pouring out of the ballroom, wondering what the ball's prankster had in mind.

The witch hunters have arrived.

"Amber," Harry said numbly. Fear filled adrenalin filled his lungs. "Call the police. Get the muggles out of here."

"But—"

"Please."

Linda, Mike, and Darren were already running with the crowd. Harry turned to Hermione and Ron. "Get the D.A, McGonagall and the rest of our teachers. I'll meet you at the cafeteria."

Ron and Hermione split, faces ashen, but running full speed.

Harry made to go, but Amber was still there. "Amber, please. We don't have time for—"