Staring up at his Aunt, he knew before he even opened his mouth what her answer would be. "You? You want to go to the ball?" Her shrill laugh cut through him like a knife, and he once again found myself wishing that he could just run away from this awful place. Dudley, having just finished his second plate of biscuits, joined in her laughter.

"There's no way we are letting you embarrass us in front of the royal family, you don't even have proper clothes for the occasion. Dudders here would be a much more suitable husband for the Princess. After all, it isn't like she can marry…well someone like you." She looked down her nose at him, and he just knew that he must still have had cinders on his face from cleaning the fireplace. As the September chill started to come, the fires were going almost constantly. He muttered under his breath about how technically he was kind of nobility. His dad was an earl or a duke or something so that makes him something too. Doesn't it? Wracking his brain, he tried to even remember his father's formal title. Marques of Godric's Hollow maybe?

He must have said it too loudly because she looked like she wanted to murder him. "Don't you have chores to be doing?" Her face was red, and he knew it would be best for everyone if he just gave in. Sighing deeply, he made his way over to the sink. Dudley had made a mess with his snack and hadn't bothered rinsing anything. What was new? He hated living with his Aunt and Uncle. He hated his cousin. Some days he even hated his mother for making him promise that he would stay with them. She couldn't have known how awful they would become.

Harry thought fondly back on the days when his parents had been alive. His father had died of consumption when he was 5. Memories from his father were rare, but he could feel that they were happy. His mother…well his mother had been the light of his life when she was alive. After his father passed away, they had asked his aunt and uncle to move in with them. She was a widow, so she couldn't provide for either of them on her own, and she refused to remarry whatever wealthy bachelor came along. His Godfather Sirius had even offered to marry her, but when his job took him to the continent, she didn't want to leave the home she had made. Vernon and Petunia helped her pay for costs, but that meant that they now owned the only place Harry had ever called home.

It had been an accident, the day that he became an orphan. Harry had been playing in the road and a carriage came flying around the bend. His mother had pushed him out of the way, but she got hit full on. Her last words were for him to take care of the house, and her family. Her death had destroyed him, orphaned at only 11. It didn't take long after her death for Vernon and Petunia to change everything. Less than a year after she died, he was living in a glorified cupboard and scrubbing the floors. Their cruelty made him want to run away more times than he could count, but he could never bring himself to do it. He saw his parents everywhere, and if he listened closely, he could even hear Lily's voice humming a tune.

His only friend in the world was a lord's son who he would occasionally see in the market. Ron was the youngest son of seven children, so he was able to come and go pretty freely. His father, Arthur, was the Earl of Ottery St. Catchpole. When Ron had brought Harry home one day, he had saved his younger sister Ginny from drowning. Arthur was so grateful that he insisted he pay for his schooling. It was due to this that he now could calculate sums, read and write. The Burrow, as their estate was lovingly called by the locals, felt more like a home than his own home most days. Reluctantly though, he always had to go back to Privet Drive; back to his Aunt and Uncle. He couldn't leave, no matter how much he wanted to.

The invitation for the Ball had come in the post three days prior, and Harry could see it out of the corner of his eye as he scrubbed the plates from breakfast. His hands were rough and cracked as he dried them to look once again at the roll of parchment.

Subjects of the Realm

You are hereby invited by their Majesties King David and Queen Helen
to a ball in celebration of Her Highness Hermione Jean Victoria Elizabeth
on the occasion of her 21st birthday.

All eligible young men above the age of majority are invited to present themselves
to the crown for consideration for the hand of Her Highness.

It is a masquerade. Suitable attire is required.

Tossing the invitation to the side, he sighed loudly. The rumors of the princess were inescapable. Many spoke of her beauty and charm, while there was also one that insisted, she was incredibly quick to anger and held a fierce belief in justice. From the stories Ron always told him from his time at court though, she seemed amazing. Of course, his red-headed friend had quite the crush on the fair princess. Every man in the kingdom would be on their way to the palace to woo the princess, but Harry had smaller goals. He wanted to visit the Capitol, to see where his father and mother had grown up and fallen in love. His mother always used to tell him about when his father was just a young rogue causing mayhem in the palace, and she was just a precocious scholar studying in the citadel. All he wanted was a chance to see the palace, the town, something other than the confines of his home and the Burrow.

"Boy!" His uncle called out, and Harry groaned. It was probably time for tea. Grabbing the nearby tray, he added some biscuits and scones; although Dudley had already eaten a good number of the biscuits, he had made the day before. Greedy and gluttonous were probably the best two descriptors for his cousin.

He walked into the sitting room to find Petunia practicing piano while Dudley and Vernon sat on the chaise discussing something about Vernon's business trade.

"About bloody time. Bring tea immediately. You know how your Aunt needs to have her afternoon tea." Knowing that saying anything would just result in some sort of punishment, he nodded absently, his legs moving him back to the kitchen without a single thought from his brain. Hanging the kettle over the fire, Harry stared out the window. A cool breeze rolled in, the first sign of the coming of fall, and he took a deep breath of the crisp fall air. A loud hoot brought him out of his misery, and he lit up as he recognized the Weasley's bird.

"Hello Pig." Harry greeted, offering the owl a bit of crumb from the bread he had baked that morning. He was always amazed that the Weasleys had trained an owl to carry messages so well, it must've been magic.

The sliver of parchment tied to his ankle caught Harry's eye and he grabbed it, unfolding the paper.

Did you get your invite to the ball? Dad says you can come with us if you want! Percy's bought some fancy new clothes, so we have an extra set if you need it. Gin's going absolutely mad because Dean's gonna be in town for the party. Please don't make me deal with her all alone. Send back a response with Pig! – Ron Weasley

Harry hesitated as he re-read his friend's invitation. Surely if he didn't need to buy dress robes than his aunt and uncle had no reason not to let him go. A new hope in his heart, he grabbed the kettle as it boiled, nearly burning himself but at the last second remembering to grab a dish towel to act as a barrier. Pouring out the hot water into a delicate tea pot with pretty a pretty blue floral pattern, he steeled himself for his second attempt.

Unsurprisingly, by the time he returned to the sitting room with the tea, all the biscuits were gone – and the only evidence they ever existed were scattered across Dudley's lapel. "Be quick about it." Vernon insisted, tapping his finger against the table impatiently as he watched Harry pour their tea like a hawk. Petunia took three spoons of sugar, Vernon took cream, and Dudley took both.

Once they seemed to be placated, and they were all drinking their tea, Harry cleared his throat to gain their attention. Petunia was technically his guardian, as per his mother's request, so he turned to her. "Aunt Petunia, I know when I asked you earlier about the Princess's Birthday Ball, you said that I couldn't go because I don't have proper clothing. The Weasleys have offered a set of dress clothes for me, and they'd bring me too. I don't even want to appear before the princess! I just want to go to the capitol. I can take care of myself; you wouldn't have to worry about anything, and I can make sure I'm back early…"

His rambling was cut short by his Aunt's stern expression. She took one final sip of her tea before placing the cup back on its saucer with a quiet chink. He had seen her angry enough to know that he'd just made a mistake. "My husband and I took on a great burden when we took you into our home." Harry had to restrain himself from rolling his eyes, they were in his home…his parent's home. "And all we ask in exchange is that you help out around the house and don't cause any trouble. Now you ungrateful boy, you will not go to the Ball. You will stay here and oversee the manor while we travel to the capitol. We'll be gone for the whole of next week to prepare, and we can't leave the house alone now can we?"

Knowing that this would happen and experiencing it were two separate things, and Harry could feel himself deflate. He should've known they'd never let him go. Nodding his head, he walked back into the kitchen, holding back the tears that he wouldn't let come. His aunt and uncle were so cruel, and as much as he wanted to leave, he couldn't do it.

Moving to his tiny room next to the cupboard, he took stock of his meager existence. His room, if it could be called that, was smaller than Dudley's closet. It was only large enough for a mattress of straw and a small block of wood that he used as a desk. On the desk there was a single candle he used for light, a small bottle of ink, a quill, and a handful of fresh parchment. A few of the books he'd acquired over the years sat in a small stack in the corner. Sitting cross-legged on the floor, he grabbed a sheet or parchment and carefully ripped off a strip from the bottom to write his answer back. The quill shook in his hand as he responded to Ron's message.

I can't go, too much to do at home. Have fun! I hope that you finally get your princess. – Harry Potter

Pigwidgeon stilled as Harry attached the parchment to his leg, and flew off when he was done. At least if he couldn't go to the ball, his family would be gone for a full week!

It was that thought that kept Harry going through the next four days before his aunt, uncle and cousin headed to the capitol. Through all of the ridiculous demands and the yelling and the punishments for no reason. The air had chilled considerably over the past few weeks, and Harry found his cupboard was getting increasingly freezing. He began his winter tradition of sleeping next to the dying fire in the kitchen.

Finally, the day arrived when they would leave, and not even Petunia's shrill voice and Dudley's bullying could bring him down. He would finally have free time to catch up on his reading; Arthur had given him a book on Greek Mythology last time he had visited, and he was just about to get to the story of Helen of Troy.

"If I find even one speck of dust or a single hair out of place when we return, I will have your head boy. Do you understand?!" Vernon's bulging eyes glared at Harry, disturbed by the boy's smile. He was suspicious of the boy already, but his pleasant demeanor after they had refused to take him to the ball made him even more so.

"Yes sir." Was Harry's curt response, already counting down the seconds until they were gone and he was free. The driver of the carriage opened the door, and Petunia stepped inside first, holding her nose up in the air as she did so. Dudley was next, and it took all of Harry's control not to laugh when he briefly got stuck in the narrow opening. Vernon was the last, and he got in with one last warning glare towards his black-haired nephew. Waiting until the carriage was no longer visible, Harry let out a loud cheer, pumping his hands in the air.

Sitting down for a leisurely lunch at the table – a treat as he usually had to eat in the kitchen holding the plate in his laps – he made sure to savor his hearty meal of chicken and rice. He was reading the book on mythology when a flash of red hair caught his eye.

"What are you doing here?" He asked, his mouth hanging open as he took in the fact that his friend was standing in front of him. It took nearly half a day to get to Godric's Hollow from Ottery St. Catchpole, and it was in the complete opposite direction from the Princess's palace.

"Isn't it obvious?" A soft feminine voice asked, and Harry turned around to see Ginny was also with Ron. He was excited to see them, since Petunia hadn't allowed him to visit them in several months, but they should've been on their way to the Ball. His expression of pure confusion must've said enough because Ginny sighed and plopped down on the couch in a very unladylike manner.

"We've come to kidnap you." Ron spoke, a mischievous smile working its way onto his face. Ginny mirrored his smirk, and Harry began to grasp what was going on.

"No. No! Absolutely not! If my aunt and uncle see me I will never be allowed out of this house ever again. Not to mention they would murder me if the house went unattended for a week. No. I need to stay here." The hesitation in his voice was evident, and he could tell by the gleam in Ginny's eyes that there was some sort of plan he wasn't privy to. Ron whistled, and suddenly a short man with whispy grey hair appeared behind him. His features were shallow and pointy, leading him to look more like a creature than a man.

"Harry Potter, it is a pleasure." The short man offered, holding his hand out for a shake. Harry tried his best not to display his observation of the man. Ron just laughed, clapping Harry on the back and gesturing to the man.

"This is Dobby. Used to work for the Malfoys, but now he's sort of…I guess you could say he's free now. But when he came by looking for work I knew he'd be perfect for operation Bring Harry to the Ball." Thinking up a million more reasons why this would never work, Harry began shutting them down. If someone could take care of the house while he was gone, and he came back early, then maybe they could pull this off.

Seeing the resignation fall over Harry's features, Ginny squealed in delight, her ginger hair bouncing as she jumped up and down. "Oh, I can't wait for you to meet Dean. I have a feeling you and he will get along smashingly. He is a bit tightly-wound, being a navy man and all, but he is the biggest sweetheart once you get to know him."

"I can't believe I'm letting you two talk me into this." Harry mumbled to himself, absent-mindedly wandering into his room to pack a spare shirt, spare trousers, and his book.

"Let's go before I come to my senses." He insisted, pushing past Ron and Ginny and out the doors of his home. Too afraid, he didn't even look back until it had become nothing but a blur in the distance. The ride was long enough that Ron and Ginny had to talk him out of turning back no less than three times, but all his concerns were forgotten as they approached a large stone gate. The doors were being held open as the whole of the realm answered the call for Princess Hermione's hand. Merchants lined the streets, and delicious smells escaped from bakeries and restaurants, filling the air with an intoxicating smell. Harry could hardly take in what he was seeing; suddenly overwhelmed by everything. This was more people than he'd seen in his entire life by at least ten-fold!

"Try to look less like a codfish when you get to the Ball." Ginny teased, and Harry snapped his jaw shut. He couldn't help it though, the sights and sounds of the city seeping in through his skin. There was just something about this place that seemed right to him. This crowded metropolis was more home to him in the seconds he had spent there than his family's home had been for years. He had a week in this city to make a lifetime of memories before he went back to the bitter life he'd known for the last ten years. He intended to make it count.