Seven ~ The Valentine's Day Ball

The week leading up to the ball passed with ever-increasing excitement, and, admittedly, I was swept up in it. Myrtle and Cora were both absolutely unable to keep their heads on their lessons, and even Cliona was excited. I had no time to meet Professor Dumbledore that week, and he quite happily agreed to give me the time off – the prospect of a celebration cheered him, too. Hagrid was also anxious, and somewhat nervous; he came to speak to me for advice when I was looking through my school notes alone in front of the fire.

He had draped over his arm what appeared to be a very large and very ugly chequered suit. Presumably, it was his garb for the ball; I eyed it suspiciously for a moment, then decided to keep my mouth shut. "Miss Minerva, I have a problem," he said, without preamble.

"What's that?"

"I – er – I don' know how to dance." He looked fearfully around the common room; it was late and it was empty. "I was wonderin' if maybe yeh could – give me some lessons?"

The expression on his face was so convincing – a sweet mixture of apprehension and camaraderie – that I could scarcely say no. I nodded and rose from my spot on the floor. I started to put my hand up on his shoulder, but it was a bit of a stretch for me to reach. I knew I'd have to improvise, so I curled my hand round his upper arm. "That'll do," I said, more to myself than to him. "Now, put your left hand on my waist."

He did so. It hung there awkwardly. I put my own left hand into his right and held our clasped hands up in the air. "Now we're in the proper position – well, sort of. I'm going to lead you for a bit, but you're really supposed to be leading me, so we'll give that a try after you've got the hang of it."

Hagrid looked at me solemnly, as if concentrating on the hardest thing he'd ever had to do. "Right, so, one, two, three – step – one, two, three – step – one, two – ouch!" He'd trod on my foot, seemingly with all his weight. I winced, but recovered before he became too embarrassed. I began counting again, very slowly.

"We'll try once more, all right? One, two, three – step – one, two, three – step!"

Gradually, Hagrid learned the dance, and managed to avoid any more injuries to my feet.. About half an hour later, he was laughing and grinning with me as we waltzed around the common room, both of us dancing quite exuberantly. He was leading and finally comfortable with it. "Should I spin yeh, Miss Minerva?"

"You may as well try it," I answered, and, instantly, he drew me around him in a perfect spin. I cheered. "Hagrid, I never knew you were such a quick study – I should think you'd get top marks with the way you pick up on things."

"Yeh'd think," he quipped.

The morning of the ball dawned with Cora and Myrtle shaking me awake. Blearily, I mumbled something incomprehensible at them – or I might have shouted. I don't really recall. "Come on, Minerva," Cora was saying. "It's already ten-thirty and you're not even up yet!"

I buried my face into my pillow. "May I remind you that breakfast is until eleven-thirty on weekends?"

"Breakfast?" Myrtle said this as though it were the most appalling thing in the world. "You can't eat breakfast today! You've got to fit into your dress robes as best as possible, and you don't need some heavy Saturday breakfast dragging you down!"

"I'm hungry," I complained, sitting up and shooting them both a mutinous glare. "And I'll not go to the ball just to feel faint and dizzy the whole time." I ended up convincing them to accompany me down to breakfast, but both Cora and Myrtle only ate dried toast and drank pumpkin juice.

Immediately following breakfast was a huge and unanticipated flurry of activity. I tried to retreat to my bed, where I pulled the curtains down and picked up one of my progress reports for Professor Dumbledore, but I barely had fifteen minutes of peace before Cora interrupted me again.

"Come on," she urged, grabbing my hand and forcefully dragging me to my feet, "you're the only one still in her dormitory! You're missing everything!"

I opened my mouth to ask precisely what I was missing, but, before I could, she had dragged me down into the common room, which had been overtaken by almost every girl in Gryffindor. There was a pack of sixth-years in the corner braiding each other's hair; two third-years were discussing the relative merits of short-sleeved robes. There was also a notable absence of boys; they had presumably retreated in fear and confusion. On one of the sofas, Myrtle was applying make-up to the face of a rather murderous-looking Cliona.

"Oh!" Myrtle exclaimed. "Could you perform that Ocular Charm now, Minerva? I'm having a bit of trouble seeing what I'm doing here."

I pulled out my wand and did it, and, with a shrug, used the charm on myself, as well. Pocketing my spectacles and mistakenly thinking that the charm was the only reason Cora had brought me down, I started back towards my dormitory and was instantly yanked backwards.

"Ah," Cora grinned. "You aren't going anywhere."

For the rest of the afternoon, I was poked and prodded by Myrtle, Cora, and several other Gryffindor girls I hadn't ever talked to until that day. Cora did a few more adjustments to my dress robes, so that they draped over my shoulders perfectly. Myrtle, after Cliona had escaped, contented herself with applying rouge and lipstick to my face. I had to make a conscious effort not to wipe it off – it felt odd and alien. A seventh-year girl I barely knew twisted my hair out of its customary long braid and worked it into loose waves. When everything was finished, I was about ready to collapse onto one of the soft chairs in the common room – but, of course, there would be nothing of the sort.

"We're meeting Charles and Emmet down in the Great Hall, too," Cora announced to me while Myrtle nodded happily. Cliona and Hagrid, who had both not bothered to spend much time getting ready, were already downstairs. "You can walk with us – we'll all go together."

I felt very beautiful swishing down the steps to the Great Hall entrance; I had looked in the mirror before setting off and had been shocked to see a face that scarcely resembled my own. The three boys were downstairs, waiting – with the other four from the Hufflepuff Quidditch team. All of them were waiting for their dates, looking at one another nervously.

"You look – er, nice," Niall said, with a very strange look on his face. He took my hand. Charles St. Clair poked him in the shoulder and laughed briefly, and Niall shot him an angry glare.

I watched the exchange uncomprehendingly. "What was that?"

"Nothing," he spat. "Let's go in."

We went into the ball. I looked around the Great Hall – which was merrily decked out in pinks and reds – searching for people I knew. Professor Dumbledore saw me and winked at me; Riddle was in the centre of a tightly-knit group of Slytherins, looking sullen and arrogant as usual. I waved at some fourth-year Gryffindors whom I had helped with a Switching Spell assignment the week before, but before I could talk to anyone, Cora wheeled me around to look at Cliona and Hagrid, who had abandoned all pretense of being polite and reserved, and were attacking a buffet table lined with Butterbeer.

Cliona drank and surveyed the table of bottles with delight. "I imagine I could drink all of these."

Hagrid laughed, seemingly at ease now. "Sounds like a right challenge." And the two of them instantly began a contest to see which could drink the most Butterbeer, starting with a time challenge (from which Cliona promptly emerged victorious), and continuing to a battle to see who could really drink the most.

"You can't possibly win," I told Cliona.

"Worth a shot," she gurgled through a mouthful of Butterbeer. Hagrid was already well ahead of her. Niall put a hand on the small of my back and silently directed me away from him. I looked questioningly up at him and was bewildered at seeing a dark and cross expression on his face.

Dinner began and Niall and I sat at a large table with the rest of the Hufflepuff Quidditch team; I was sandwiched between Niall and Cora. As soon as everyone was settled, huge platters of food, trays of pink frosted cookies, and deep flagons of pumpkin juice appeared all around us. I had an inexplicably queasy feeling in my stomach throughout the entire meal – I could sense that something was not quite right.

"You look ill," Niall said through a mouthful of potatoes.

"I'm fine," I replied. I let my gaze travel over to Myrtle, who was talking animatedly to Emmet Fawcett. Her hands were moving; her eyes were alight with joy as she babbled on. Emmet, for his part, looked as though he was hearing a banshee screaming. The odd lurch in my stomach intensified.

When we were finished eating, music started to play, and a few couples rose to dance. Hagrid and Cliona were among them, and so were Olive Hornby and Freddie Hull – though the latter were moving rather uncomfortably. "Do you think we ought to – you know? Dance?" I asked Niall, indicating the swaying people.

"Maybe later on," he answered brusquely.

We sat there, ill at ease, for the better part of an hour. I tried to make conversation, but Niall only answered in one-word phrases and occasionally glared at me as though I had done him some great injustice. I felt my cheeks grow hot – even Myrtle was making a brave attempt at dancing, but I was kept sitting.

I was feeling more than a little bewildered at Niall's behaviour when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned around and saw the person I least expected – Riddle had escaped from the knot of Slytherins and was looking at me like I was an insect. "A word, McGonagall," he said plainly.

"What?"

Niall was also taken aback. "Who the hell are you?"

Riddle ignored him. "Dance for a moment," he said, and grabbed me by the wrist.

I was hastily pulled onto the dance floor. "What the hell are you doing?" I snarled at Riddle, enunciating each word through my teeth. "I don't want to dance with you," I said with equal venom as we fell into the steps. I didn't know whether to be polite to the git or just push him away.

He put his head close to mine and whispered in my ear. "Don't flatter yourself, McGonagall. I'm certainly not here for the pleasure of your company." He gave me a cold look. "Those Hufflepuff half-wits decided they would have a contest, and I'm willing to bet Niall MacDougal is quite distressed that you turned up looking somewhat decent."

"I – I beg your pardon! They're having a what?"

"A contest, McGonagall, to see which of them brought the ugliest date. Galleons involved and all." My mouth dropped open; a hundred emotions flipped through me in an instant, but the dominant ones were rage and shame. Riddle shifted slightly, presumably to get a better look at something behind me, and then he leaned down to whisper privately again. "I think Emmet Fawcett has it wrapped up."

I craned my neck, saw that he was looking at Myrtle, and I couldn't help it. I reared back and slapped him in the face. "You – you vicious bastard!" I hissed. "Don't you even know she—" I caught myself before I revealed Myrtle's secret. I gritted my teeth, shot Riddle a withering glare, and stalked off to where Niall and Emmet were watching.

Emmet saw me coming. "There she is," he snickered to Niall. "Rotten luck, that."

"Shut up!" Niall hissed.

"No need to keep your voices down," I said, and my voice was surprisingly calm. I was not quite looking at them, but Myrtle and Cora behind me. Cora was still with Charles St. Clair, who was looking surreptitiously at Niall and Emmet. I reached into the pocket of the dress robes and closed my hand around my wand.

"What's the matter?" Niall asked sweetly.

"Oh, nothing – well, except the rather insignificant fact that it's come to my attention you're nothing but a useless ass." I drew out my wand. I was still shockingly collected; a part of me marveled that I was not screaming with outrage. Emmet and Niall took a few steps backward.

Niall gaped at me. "Minerva, what in Merlin's name are you doing?"

"I heard about your little contest."

People were starting to watch now. Riddle had been gazing, unblinking, at the spectacle ever since I had disentangled myself from him, but now Myrtle and Cora and Charles were watching; Cliona and Hagrid had stopped their battle of might to look at what was going on. Olive Hornby and Freddie Hull were looking, and so were the other Hufflepuff Quidditch team members and their dates, as well as many other students. With faint embarrassment, I saw that some of the teachers were also interested, Professor Dumbledore among them.

For a long moment, no one said anything. Then Emmet shifted and said, "Well, McGonagall, I don't see what you're so crabby about. Niall here sure took a bet on the wrong horse."

"Shut up, Emmet," Niall said again. "What're you going to do?" He turned to me, grinned. How had I never noticed how stupid and doglike his smile was? It was baffling. "Really, McGonagall – are you going to take points off of us?"

"I'm going to hex you into next year if you take that tone with me again."

"Go ahead!" Freddie Hull shouted from behind me. "I won the contest, anyhow."

Emmet craned his neck and regarded Olive Hornby coolly, then glanced back at Myrtle, who was looking very abashed. "She may be hideous, Freddie, but I got you beat. Mine's a Mudblood. And check out her—"

There was a great gasp. I whirled on him. "Silencio!" Whatever Emmet Fawcett had been about to say was cut off. I felt my cheeks growing hot. Now the anger was letting itself go, and, when I looked back and saw that both Cora and Myrtle were crying, I turned my wand on Niall and shouted, "Petrificus Totalus!"

Niall's arms and legs snapped together; his eyes were wide with fury. "Think about this next time you hurt my friends!" I hollered, and then, before I could turn around and hex Freddie Hull and Charles St. Clair and the rest of them, I was yanked away roughly by the arm. I looked up to see Professor Caldecott with a grim expression on his face, followed by Professor Dumbledore and Headmaster Dippet himself.

The full reality of what I'd done sunk in. I was led outside the Great Hall. On my way, I looked into the twin gaping faces of Hagrid and Cliona, and directly at Riddle's impassive smirk. Half the students were laughing at Niall, whose eyes were darting about rather dramatically on his frozen face; the other half just stared. I was escorted into Dumbledore's office and plunked unceremoniously onto a chair. Professor Caldecott was the first to speak. "I'm disappointed, Miss McGonagall. You are normally so well-behaved in my class."

"Curses at a formal event!" Dippet raged. "I would have expected better from a prefect of this school!"

I cut in desperately. "Sir – Headmaster – you don't know what those boys were—"

"Miss McGonagall," Dumbledore said severely, "you of all students must know that there is no excuse for attacking another student." He looked up at the other two men. "If you will excuse us, I wish to work out a punishment with Miss McGonagall in private."

Caldecott and Dippet headed out the door. "Sir, really, could I just explain?" My voice sounded very small, but I didn't let him answer me. "They had this terrible contest – and one of them called Myrtle a Mudblood – humiliating, really – I couldn't just let them do it – people shouldn't be allowed to do things like that – not that it hurt me – but Myrtle and Cora are my friends."

"Miss McGonagall," he sighed, not unkindly, "perhaps you should organize your thoughts before you speak."

I took a deep breath and told him the whole story, from how the Hufflepuff boys seemed to be choosing odd dates for the ball, to what Tom Riddle had revealed to me, right to being forcibly removed from the Great Hall. I closed my eyes near the end; I knew I was in deep trouble. "I'm sorry I did it," I added at the end of the story, "but you've got to understand, I just couldn't let them get away with it."

Dumbledore looked at me heavily. "Well, Miss McGonagall, I assure you that those boys will have to meet with their Head of House, and will probably regret their actions quite emphatically, but, in spite of what they did, the fact remains that you did attack two of them – with tremendous spirit, I might add," he chuckled. "I daresay they'll not try anything of this sort again. However, I must take twenty-five points from Gryffindor, and grant you a week's worth of detentions." He hesitated. "I must also suspend your position as a prefect for a month's time."

I swallowed. "Yes, sir."

"Bring your badge to me next term project session."

"I will, sir." My heart was heavy.

He smiled at me. "Don't look so gloomy, Miss McGonagall. I should think five years without getting into trouble is quite long enough – one really needs to raise some mischief once in a while. The sort of people who never get in trouble are often the ones who turn out the worst."

I smiled a little at this. "Thank you, sir – er, I suppose. It's hard, never having been in trouble before."

He made as if to lift an imaginary glass. "Here's to a second time."

On my way back I saw Olive Hornby crying against a tapestry, with a Ravenclaw girl I didn't know trying to soothe her. I almost didn't stop, but then I thought better of it – I might have disliked her, but I knew how she was feeling. "Olive?" I ventured.

She sniffed and wiped her face, then looked at me and assumed her customary expression of disdain. "What is it, Minerva?"

"Don't let those fools get to you." I strode down the hallway and was almost out of sight when Olive called to me.

"Minerva!"

I stopped. "Yes?"

"Thanks – I mean – yes, thanks. For what you did to them."

I couldn't help it; I beamed at her. It was Olive Hornby, and tomorrow she would be back to making snide comments about Myrtle, but, for the moment, we were allies. "You're welcome."

I shuffled back to the Gryffindor room expecting to be shunned for causing the loss of twenty-five points, but it was not so. As soon as I stepped through the portrait hole, I was immediately jumped upon by both Cliona and Cora, who were both smiling widely. Hagrid was there, too, tentatively patting Myrtle, who, predictably, was still sobbing on one of the chairs. A dozen other Gryffindor girls were there, and all of them clapped when they saw me.

"Showed those buggers right up!" one girl cheered.

"I expected it!" another shouted. "Gryffindor's better than Hufflepuff anyday!"

Hagrid looked up and smiled at me as though I were some shining hero.

"You shocked me there, Minerva," Cliona said. "In a good way." She drew me over to where four or five girls were sitting. "I'll admit we all thought you'd gone crazy – none of us knew what was going on, but as soon as that great idiot called Myrtle a – well, you know, that awful name – we knew something was up."

"Hagrid got it out of Freddie Hull," Cora put in. "Scared him half to death, I think, but the whole story came out, Minerva, and I'm glad you gave them what they deserved." She looked down at her palms for a moment. "I swear, though, once I get my hands on Charles St. Clair—"

"They've got it out for you now, though," Cliona warned. "Myrtle was crying in the corner and she overheard Niall telling Emmet—"

"That there was no way – hic – you were going to get away with that," Myrtle said hollowly from her chair, between sobs.

Several impulses rose up within me, not the least of which was the intense desire to strangle Niall MacDougal with my Gryffindor scarf. "We'll see," I said evenly.

"Don't you do anything stupid!" Cora exclaimed.

Myrtle had temporarily ceased crying and hiccoughing, and was now looking at me with keen interest, as though she were gazing at a rescuer. "How did you know what they were planning?"

"Er – Riddle told me." I looked at my wrist, which was a bit red and raw from where he had grabbed me. "And don't you say a thing about that, Myrtle – he was horrible about it."

"I wasn't going to!"

"Did Professor Dumbledore take yer badge away?" Hagrid asked gently; he alone saw the misery beneath my brave words. I had been hoping no one would ask.

"Yeah. Only for a month, though."

"You know," Cliona said thoughtfully, "we really ought to get some revenge on those twits – and, Minerva, since you're not a prefect for the moment, you ought to come up with something. Something really mean, y'know – like a Clothes-Transparency Charm on the whole team."

"If they let it pass, I will, too," I said solemnly.

"And if they don't?"

I smiled at all them, feeling very much unlike myself. "Like I said – we'll see." And, with that, I picked up my skirts and went back to the dormitory alone, feeling oddly satisfied. In spite of everything, I felt happy, and glad of my friends, and I pulled aside my curtains and sat with Professor Dumbledore's words on my mind: one really needs to cause some mischief once in a while.

They are words I have never forgotten.

I was about to pull out my term project report again when Myrtle's round face peered past my thick curtains. She was crying again, but not in her usual theatrical manner – this time she was barely weeping at all, and I knew it was not for attention like it usually was. Wordlessly, I shifted on my bed and patted the space beside me. And, suddenly, listening to her cry no longer seemed like the duty of a prefect, but like the responsibility of a friend. I put an arm around her and drew her head against my shoulder, and we sat there, silently, while she sobbed.

"Minerva," she sniffled, after a while. "Tell me – honestly – am I ugly?"

I looked at her then, at the hair she'd so carefully styled, at the make-up, now streaming down her face, that she had so meticulously applied, at her eyes, unencumbered by her customary bottlebottom glasses. "No," I said fiercely, and in that second I realised it was true. "No, you're beautiful."