Harry smiled and chatted with Lord and Lady Acton as they gathered in the Grand Ballroom at Potter Castle. The Potters had not thrown a ball at the castle for a couple of hundred years now and so no one here had seen the place. They were in awe of the wealth and splendour it had to offer and Harry had gone all out to impress the influential witches and wizards with it.
The Grand Ballroom was really well decorated. The house-elves had done a marvellous job. The marble floor had been charmed to make it sparkle, as if the floor was actually carved out of diamond. Multi-coloured flowers were placed in different areas of the ballroom and the decorations were exquisite. Large chandeliers emitting a golden light gave off an amazing display. All in all, it now looked fit for a king, a fact which wasn't far from the truth as the Potter family had stolen from Muggle royalty in the past.
"He's so adorable!" gushed Samantha Hudson, one of the elected representatives on the Wizengamot, as she joined Lady Acton and Madam Marchbanks. Little Rigel Black was nested in his godfather's arms, looking at everyone curiously. His hair was bright blue and eyes a stunning green, looking identical to Harry's.
"Oh, don't be fooled by his display," said Harry wryly. "He really knows how to get away from those taking care of him. I haven't had a good night's sleep in a week."
Rigel giggled and tapped Harry's face with his little hand. Harry smiled fondly as he kissed the boy's temple. "Please enjoy yourselves. I'm very happy that you could grace us with your presence here this evening."
Many others wanted to meet the little Heir Black so Harry was constantly surrounded by a group of girls. Of course, unknown to Harry, those girls not only wanted to meet the cute ten months old Metamorphmagus but also wanted to flirt with Harry. He was dressed today in navy blue Acromantula robes, his shirt buttons made of platinum and embedded with diamonds, handpicked by Lady Greengrass. His raven black hair was let loose this time, framing his face delicately so that Rigel could grab his locks whenever he wanted, making the girls coo over the baby's display in the process.
Harry was now standing more than six feet in height. His powerful inherent magic had made him reach puberty earlier than usual - and that was by magical standards and magical children reached puberty faster than Muggles anyway - and his body reflected that. He was hardly the only one, as this phenomenon was common among witches and wizards who were above average in terms of magical power. The daily exercises he did really helped him look positively scrumptious, giving him a strong, athletic and perfectly cut body. Right now, dressed in rich, tasteful-looking clothes that fit his muscular frame perfectly, he looked very handsome indeed.
"Can he change his hair colour to anything?" asked Parvati Patil excitedly.
"As long as he likes the colour, yes," said Harry, smiling at his godson. "Rigel, look!"
Opening his palm, Harry released a puff of dark red coloured smoke. Rigel giggled as he tried to catch it with his palms, his hair turning from blue to a deep shade of red.
"Wow," said Hestia Carrow, dragging the word slowly in amazement. Blinking her eyes flirtatiously, she said, "You're really good with kids, Harry."
"Yes, you are," Flora Carrow, Hestia's twin sister, moving closer as she smiled sweetly. "Not many boys your age like children, forget taking care of them."
...
Daphne pursed her lips as she looked across the Grand Ballroom. She was dressed in a beautiful flowing champagne coloured dress with silver accents; long diamond earrings sparkled from her ears. Her wavy dark blonde hair that reached the middle of her back was expertly styled and a butterfly-shaped hairclip was holding her hair in place. Daphne had developed quite nicely over the past year. Her deep blue eyes and rosy pink lips were already attracting attention from many a young man across the ballroom. Her lush breasts and delicate curves, enhanced due to long hours of dance practices, were eye candy to anyone who danced with her. She looked breathtakingly beautiful, with her magical powers - like Harry and most other witches and wizards her age - giving her the physical maturity of an eighteen-year-old Muggle, and Lord Cyrus Greengrass had been glaring at anyone who even looked at his two daughters the wrong way, much to the amusement of his wife.
"Look at that!" hissed Daphne, glaring daggers at Harry from across the ballroom. "Can they be any more obvious in their flirting with him?"
Dylan Lestrange chuckled as he silently sipped his drink.
"You find this funny?"
"I don't know why you're worried, Daph," Dylan replied, looking amused. "Harry loves you. He practically worships the ground you walk on."
"I don't know about that," she huffed, looking cross. "If he did, he wouldn't be flirting with a dozen girls over there!"
"If you don't like it, just go over there and put a stop to it," Dylan shrugged.
"Yeah, and be known as the psycho fiancée of Harry Potter?" snapped Daphne, looking at the group with narrowed eyes. "I can't do that even if I wanted to. I'm the host here, remember? Besides, my mother would kill me for not behaving in such a public place."
"You're jealous," Astoria stated triumphantly, coming to stand next to her.
"Am not!" Daphne retorted indignantly, but the fire in her eyes said something else. She spotted many of their schoolmates and heirs of important families dancing around the ballroom. Neville was dancing with Susan, looking quite shy in the process and doing his best not to step on her toes. Theo Nott and Tracy Davis were laughing as they tried to dance ridiculous moves, earning disapproving looks from Lord Nott for not behaving. Daphne grimaced when she saw Cormac McLaggen talking to a bunch of boys, bragging about himself. She had been requested to dance by him and after one song, wished she had never met him in the first place.
"Miss Greengrass, would you do me the honour of being my partner for this dance?" asked Draco Malfoy formally, stepping up to them.
Astoria giggled as he brushed his lips against her knuckles. "Of course, Draco," she said happily, allowing him to lead her forward.
The smile on Dylan's face faded slightly and he felt as though someone had punched him in the gut as he watched Draco and Astoria. Swallowing his discomfort and reinforcing his still developing mental shields, he turned away. A few moments later, he felt someone gently running their fingers through his hair.
"Hey, what's wrong?" asked Daphne, cupping his face and brushing her thumb along his cheek in concern.
"Nothing," Dylan murmured.
"If you're sure…" said Daphne, looking at him sceptically.
....
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