Chapter 9 – Valentine's Day
The rest of the Christmas holidays went by all right. Rachel returned before New Year's, complaining that her little sisters were driving her insane. The two girls often went down to help Chris and Hagrid with something for the older students' Care of Magical Creatures class. The rest of the students returned about mid-January.
Quidditch season had been going on for quite some time now, but with all the homework, Liz had never been able to make it to one of the games. Somehow, Rachel had managed to make time to go watch, even if Gryffindor wasn't playing. With the third game of the season approaching, Gryffindor versus Slytherin, Michael was very determined to have Liz come watch as well.
"Come on, you've got to come, it'll be fun, everyone's going to be there—"
"Everyone but me. Michael, I have a report on moonstones due in Potions on Monday!"
"So do I. Do it tomorrow."
Liz sighed. "Fine. But if I fail Potions, on your own head be it!"
Rachel looked bewildered and Liz groaned. "It means it'll be his fault."
"Oh," Rachel said. "Right."
So that Saturday, Liz reluctantly trudged up to the Quidditch stands, thinking of her report that was sitting on a table in the common room. She and Rachel found seats near Bettie and Alberta, who were discussing Allison's disappearance. Liz tried to tune them out.
"Welcome to the third Quidditch math of the season, Slytherin versus Gryffindor!" yelled the commentator, a fourth-year Gryffindor named Josh Lepress. "It promises to be a great match, folks."
The Gryffindor and Slytherin teams came onto the field, and so did Oliver Wood, carrying a large wooden box. He opened it, released the Bludgers and the Golden Snitch, took out the Quaffle, blew his whistle, and tossed the Quaffle high up in the air.
"Let the game begin!
"Celeste Weaver has the Quaffle. She passes to Shannon Dogginsen, who passes down to Mitchell Mikey—oh, no, he's missed it and Julie Bourden of Slytherin takes it up the field. About to make a goal against Sarah McGuire. Ooh, a Bludger from Stephanie Allen, and Julie drops the Quaffle and Celeste Weaver gets it, she's shooting up the field to Slytherin Keeper Alan Montague, she shoots, SHE SCORES! Ten points to Gryffindor!"
A cheer rose up from the Gryffindor stands as Celeste did a victory lap. Liz looked up at Michael, who seemed not to have noticed. He was concentrated on looking for the Snitch.
"All right, Slytherin ball, Chaser Billy Monaghan has it, no one's in his way, no Bludgers to be seen, just him, Gryffindor Keeper Sarah McGuire, and the goal posts...he shoots, SAVE IT, SARAH! Well, Slytherin scores, ten to ten...Gryffindor didn't have a lead for long..."
"Come on, Michael, find the Snitch so I can go do my report," Liz hissed as Michael circled the field high up in the air. Then, suddenly, he dove downwards. The Slytherin Seeker followed in a downward spiral. All eyes were on them now.
"Go, Michael, go!" both Liz and Rachel cried. Michael stretched out his hand, and so did the Slytherin Seeker...but he came up empty, and the crowd roared as Michael held up the golden ball, madly struggling between his fingers.
"GRYFFINDOR WINS, ONE HUNDRED SIXTY TO TEN!" Josh screamed from his perch in the stands. All around him, the Gryffindors were hopping up and down and cheering. Liz and Rachel raced out onto the field to congratulate Michael before the team piled on him in a gigantic group hug.
"See, wasn't this better than doing a report for Snape?" Rachel asked Liz.
"Oh, my gosh! My report!" Liz cried. "I've got to go, see you in the common room!" And she rushed off.
"Look at this, Liz," Rachel said after Potions on Monday. "I failed my report on moonstones."
"Hmm, I wonder why," Liz said sarcastically. "Maybe it's because you did it this morning."
"I didn't," Michael piped up, "and I failed, too."
"You did yours last night. Don't feel bad; I didn't get a perfect score," Liz said.
"That's because Snape's a bitter old git," Rachel said. "And your grade is still a nine out of ten."
The three of them followed the rest of the first-year Gryffindors to Transfiguration. Professor Weasley was waiting for all of them to finally straggle in. When all were present, she strode to the front of the room and beamed at each of them in turn.
"I am happy to announce that Hogwarts is holding its annual Valentine's Day Dance on Valentine's Day. It is going to be a lot of fun. The Valentine's Dance was a tradition started about eight or nine years ago, and it has been held every year since. Remember, it's on February fourteenth. Now take out your textbooks."
After studying on the procedure to undo a Transfiguration procedure, the class filed out, talking excitedly about the upcoming dance.
"I hope someone asks me!" Rachel said.
"Me too," Liz agreed.
"Why wait?" Michael asked. "I mean, for a boy to ask you. Why not ask a boy yourself?"
Rachel raised an eyebrow. "Because everyone knows that girls can't ask boys. It's an unspoken rule."
"Right," Michael answered. "I don't see why you can't just ask someone who you'd want to go to the dance with. It seems stupid."
"It is stupid," Liz agreed. "But so is Snape, and you don't see anyone getting rid of him yet."
The love bug had bitten the whole school, and it seemed the only ones who hadn't been bitten were Liz, Rachel, and Michael. Every evening, two people had started holding hands. And every evening, it bothered Liz even more.
"I mean, she's eleven! And he's twelve!" she exclaimed as Desiree passed them in the common room, hand-in-hand with a second-year.
"How'd she get asked by a second-year?" Rachel said.
"That isn't the point, Rachel."
"Then what is the point?"
"Look, if you go with someone when you're eleven or twelve, it's supposed to be with a friend, like going somewhere with a friend," Liz said.
"Then one of us should go with Michael."
Both of them looked at each other. "You take him!" they both cried at the same time.
"Well, I'm not going with him," Liz said.
"Neither am I!" Rachel said.
"Um, Liz?" said a voice behind them. "May I speak to you for a moment?"
Both Liz and Rachel looked around. John Peterson was standing behind them. "Sure, John," Liz said, slightly surprised. He helped her up from her spot on the floor and led her to a corner where no one would hear.
"Uh, well, I know it's out of nowhere, sort of, but...will you come to the dance with me?"
"Oh, absolutely, John," Liz said.
John looked pleased. "Well, I'll...see you later, then."
"Bye," Liz said, rushing over to Rachel. "He asked me to the dance!"
"Really? Oh, Liz, you've got to tell me how it is. I bet you'll have a lot of fun."
"What are you talking about?" Liz said.
"Well," Rachel sighed, "I decided that I'm not going unless someone asks me. Which means I'm not going."
"Go with Michael! He's no going to ask anyone, and that way you won't be under the pressure of going on a date at eleven."
Rachel gave Liz a look that said that was most certainly not an option and picked up her Transfiguration book to study. Liz sighed and followed suit.
As Valentine's Day drew ever nearer, Liz found that John didn't share her views on dating at the age of eleven. He always found a way to sit next to her at breakfast, lunch, and dinner. He talked to her before classes, after classes, and (much to Liz's annoyance) during classes. Once he even offered to help her with her homework, which Liz politely declined. It got to the point where Liz hid herself in the bathrooms as he passed, asking people if they had seen her.
"Help me," she hissed one evening to Rachel and Michael, who were sitting in the common room doing homework.
"You're the one who said you'd to go the dance with him," Michael said.
"I believe your exact words were, 'Oh, absolutely, John!'" Rachel said, exaggerating and swooning.
"He won't leave me alone!" Liz complained.
"Here he comes," Michael said as John entered through the portrait hole.
Liz jumped to her feet. "If he asks, I'm not feeling well and I'm up in my dorm." She raced away and up the stairs.
At about ten, Liz decided it was safe to go back down. John usually went up to bed at nine-thirty. She found Rachel and Michael down there alone.
"The coast is clear," Rachel said.
"Good thing, too," Liz replied, taking out a book.
They sat in silence for a while, Rachel and Michael working on homework and Liz reading her book. After a while, Michael spoke up, "Do both of you have dates for the dance?"
"No, and it's not a date," Liz said quickly. "I would never date someone so annoying."
"Mmm," Michael replied. There was complete and total silence for almost ten full seconds, and then he said, "I think it's really stupid to have it as dates, you know? We're eleven."
When Liz didn't immediately agree, Rachel looked at her. She had her face completely hidden behind her book. "Yeah, I know what you mean."
"Hey, since you're not going with anybody and I'm not going with anybody, do you want to go with me? Just," he added, "as friends."
"Sure, Michael," Rachel said.
Michael nodded and returned to his homework.
February fourteenth dawned upon the towers of Hogwarts. Most of the school slept in, since it was a Saturday. Indeed, Professor McGonagall didn't turn up in the Great Hall until nearly ten o'clock.
"Look, Liz!" Rachel exclaimed at breakfast, pointing in the air at a gray owl.
Liz looked up and groaned. "It is not coming over here, it is not coming over here..."
"It's coming over here," Michael said.
"Be quiet!" Liz told him.
But the bird landed directly in front of her. It came bearing two pink roses, candy, and a note.
Happy Valentine's Day! From, John.
"Well, he didn't sign it, 'With love, your dearest John,'" Rachel said.
"Look! Pink!" Liz exclaimed excitedly. "They're pink! Pink roses! This is the happiest day of my life!"
Rachel and Michael stared at her, then at each other, and then back at her. "Maybe he put a Love Spell on it or something," Michael said.
"No!" Liz cried. "Don't you see? Pink stands for friendship! He just wants to be friends!"
"Somehow I doubt that," Rachel said. "After all, he's been following you everywhere for a week and a half."
"Yeah," Michael agreed. "Maybe the florist was out of red. Besides, I doubt he knows pink stands for friendship. I know I didn't."
Both Liz and Rachel looked at him, rolled their eyes, and looked away.
At four, Rachel pulled Liz up to their dormitory to help her get ready for the dance. "What, you need three hours to get ready?" Liz said. "You're going with your best friend!"
"Yeah, but if I look absolutely stunning, maybe a cute second-year will ask me to dance," Rachel replied, holding up her dress robes and looking at herself in the mirror.
"So you're going to just ditch Michael?"
"Of course not! I'll make sure he has a clear view of the punch bowl."
"You're hopeless, Rachel."
"I know. Now, which eye shadow goes best with my robes?"
The two got ready, and the entire time Liz wanted to scream out, "We're eleven!" but she restrained herself and helped Rachel. After that, Liz changed into her robes and stood back, admiring herself in the mirror.
"What, you're going with your hair like that?" Rachel said.
"What's wrong with my hair?"
"Oh, nothing. It's just in the exact same style as you always wear it. And no makeup? Come here. We mustn't disappoint dear John, now, mustn't we?"
Liz started to retort, but as she felt an eyeliner pencil on her eyelid, she decided she'd rather stay silent and still than lose an eye. Rachel worked on her for almost as long as she had worked on herself. "There!" she said at last. "Look at yourself! Don't you love the way the foundation matches your skin tones?"
Liz looked at herself and choked. "I look like a clown."
"No, you don't. Now for your hair."
Liz glanced desperately at the clock. "Rachel, it's six fifty-seven. The dance starts in three minutes."
"Then I'll use a spell. Hold still."
"On my hair? Rachel!"
"You'll look great. Now hold still."
Liz closed her eyes as Rachel whipped out her wand, muttered a few indistinguishable words, and aimed at her head. With trepidation, she opened one eye a crack and peeked at herself. "Wow!" she cried. Her hair was too elaborate and lovely to be described in words.
"You look great. Now let's go!"
They dashed out behind Alberta, who had tried to make her hair less stringy, and had achieved just the opposite. Michael and John were waiting for them at the foot of the stairs.
"You look great," Michael told Rachel.
"You do too," John said to Liz, who smiled weakly.
The four of them came into the Great Hall behind Desiree and her second- year date. Michael and Rachel stopped to talk, but John took Liz over to the dance floor. "I'm not very good at dancing," Liz found herself saying.
"Me neither," said John, "but it's a dance. Come on!"
Reluctantly, Liz danced with him. They twirled and spun all across the dance floor. From across it, Liz saw Chris walk in, wearing his own dress robes. She tried to call out to him, but John twirled her and dipped her. Well, he tried to dip her. The result was a not-so-graceful lading on the floor and a sore back. John helped Liz up. "Are you all right?"
Liz nodded, then said, "You know what? One of my friends just showed up, and I want to say hello. I'll be right back." And she left John on his own.
"Chris! Where are you?" she called. Dodging past a couple of sixth-years, she finally spotted him. But before she could reach him, Bettie Hess sidestepped in front of her. "Hi, I'm Bettie. What's your name?"
"Chris," he replied.
"Do you want to dance?" she asked.
"Sure."
They went off. Liz felt extremely angry. Bettie had destroyed her last chance of having a good time. She had just wanted to talk to Chris and avoid John, but those hopes were dashed. Seething, Liz made her way past Winnie Chen and Martin Steward to John.
"Did you find your friend?"
"No," she replied.
"Oh. Do you want some punch?"
She said, "Sure," and followed him to the refreshment table. He poured them both some punch from the punch bowl, which was enchanted to always refill itself. Liz sipped from her cup with the knowledge that it would be the worst night of her life and she would have to suffer through it. She glimpsed Chris and Bettie from far away, still dancing.
John and Liz seated themselves near the refreshment table. The line behind it grew and dwindled and grew again. Presently, Bettie and Chris appeared there.
Suddenly, without knowing what made her do it, Liz stuck out her foot in Bettie's way. Bettie tripped and fell face-first into the punch bowl, spilling much of it on the floor. She slipped and hit the edge of the table. The punch bowl catapulted into the crowd, drenching everyone. What was worse, the bowl kept refilling itself and dumping out its contents on the floor. Dozens of dancers ended up on the floor with it.
Professor Weasley noticed a disturbance from her perch at the High Table. "What's going on down here—" And, with a shriek and a splash, she slipped in the inch-deep puddle of punch. A couple of students attempted to help her up, but only ended on the ground next to her.
The punch was a good three inches deep before anyone thought of righting the punch bowl, and a good five inches before anyone could stand up to get near it. When it had been returned to its proper position, it floated away. Professor McGonagall waved her wand, and all the punch simply evaporated. People looked around for the origin of the commotion.
Bettie glared Liz down and stalked off without a word. Winnie Chen, drenched in the red stuff, pointed at Liz. "She did it! She did it!" she announced shrilly.
All eyes turned to Liz, who grinned weakly.
The rest of the Christmas holidays went by all right. Rachel returned before New Year's, complaining that her little sisters were driving her insane. The two girls often went down to help Chris and Hagrid with something for the older students' Care of Magical Creatures class. The rest of the students returned about mid-January.
Quidditch season had been going on for quite some time now, but with all the homework, Liz had never been able to make it to one of the games. Somehow, Rachel had managed to make time to go watch, even if Gryffindor wasn't playing. With the third game of the season approaching, Gryffindor versus Slytherin, Michael was very determined to have Liz come watch as well.
"Come on, you've got to come, it'll be fun, everyone's going to be there—"
"Everyone but me. Michael, I have a report on moonstones due in Potions on Monday!"
"So do I. Do it tomorrow."
Liz sighed. "Fine. But if I fail Potions, on your own head be it!"
Rachel looked bewildered and Liz groaned. "It means it'll be his fault."
"Oh," Rachel said. "Right."
So that Saturday, Liz reluctantly trudged up to the Quidditch stands, thinking of her report that was sitting on a table in the common room. She and Rachel found seats near Bettie and Alberta, who were discussing Allison's disappearance. Liz tried to tune them out.
"Welcome to the third Quidditch math of the season, Slytherin versus Gryffindor!" yelled the commentator, a fourth-year Gryffindor named Josh Lepress. "It promises to be a great match, folks."
The Gryffindor and Slytherin teams came onto the field, and so did Oliver Wood, carrying a large wooden box. He opened it, released the Bludgers and the Golden Snitch, took out the Quaffle, blew his whistle, and tossed the Quaffle high up in the air.
"Let the game begin!
"Celeste Weaver has the Quaffle. She passes to Shannon Dogginsen, who passes down to Mitchell Mikey—oh, no, he's missed it and Julie Bourden of Slytherin takes it up the field. About to make a goal against Sarah McGuire. Ooh, a Bludger from Stephanie Allen, and Julie drops the Quaffle and Celeste Weaver gets it, she's shooting up the field to Slytherin Keeper Alan Montague, she shoots, SHE SCORES! Ten points to Gryffindor!"
A cheer rose up from the Gryffindor stands as Celeste did a victory lap. Liz looked up at Michael, who seemed not to have noticed. He was concentrated on looking for the Snitch.
"All right, Slytherin ball, Chaser Billy Monaghan has it, no one's in his way, no Bludgers to be seen, just him, Gryffindor Keeper Sarah McGuire, and the goal posts...he shoots, SAVE IT, SARAH! Well, Slytherin scores, ten to ten...Gryffindor didn't have a lead for long..."
"Come on, Michael, find the Snitch so I can go do my report," Liz hissed as Michael circled the field high up in the air. Then, suddenly, he dove downwards. The Slytherin Seeker followed in a downward spiral. All eyes were on them now.
"Go, Michael, go!" both Liz and Rachel cried. Michael stretched out his hand, and so did the Slytherin Seeker...but he came up empty, and the crowd roared as Michael held up the golden ball, madly struggling between his fingers.
"GRYFFINDOR WINS, ONE HUNDRED SIXTY TO TEN!" Josh screamed from his perch in the stands. All around him, the Gryffindors were hopping up and down and cheering. Liz and Rachel raced out onto the field to congratulate Michael before the team piled on him in a gigantic group hug.
"See, wasn't this better than doing a report for Snape?" Rachel asked Liz.
"Oh, my gosh! My report!" Liz cried. "I've got to go, see you in the common room!" And she rushed off.
"Look at this, Liz," Rachel said after Potions on Monday. "I failed my report on moonstones."
"Hmm, I wonder why," Liz said sarcastically. "Maybe it's because you did it this morning."
"I didn't," Michael piped up, "and I failed, too."
"You did yours last night. Don't feel bad; I didn't get a perfect score," Liz said.
"That's because Snape's a bitter old git," Rachel said. "And your grade is still a nine out of ten."
The three of them followed the rest of the first-year Gryffindors to Transfiguration. Professor Weasley was waiting for all of them to finally straggle in. When all were present, she strode to the front of the room and beamed at each of them in turn.
"I am happy to announce that Hogwarts is holding its annual Valentine's Day Dance on Valentine's Day. It is going to be a lot of fun. The Valentine's Dance was a tradition started about eight or nine years ago, and it has been held every year since. Remember, it's on February fourteenth. Now take out your textbooks."
After studying on the procedure to undo a Transfiguration procedure, the class filed out, talking excitedly about the upcoming dance.
"I hope someone asks me!" Rachel said.
"Me too," Liz agreed.
"Why wait?" Michael asked. "I mean, for a boy to ask you. Why not ask a boy yourself?"
Rachel raised an eyebrow. "Because everyone knows that girls can't ask boys. It's an unspoken rule."
"Right," Michael answered. "I don't see why you can't just ask someone who you'd want to go to the dance with. It seems stupid."
"It is stupid," Liz agreed. "But so is Snape, and you don't see anyone getting rid of him yet."
The love bug had bitten the whole school, and it seemed the only ones who hadn't been bitten were Liz, Rachel, and Michael. Every evening, two people had started holding hands. And every evening, it bothered Liz even more.
"I mean, she's eleven! And he's twelve!" she exclaimed as Desiree passed them in the common room, hand-in-hand with a second-year.
"How'd she get asked by a second-year?" Rachel said.
"That isn't the point, Rachel."
"Then what is the point?"
"Look, if you go with someone when you're eleven or twelve, it's supposed to be with a friend, like going somewhere with a friend," Liz said.
"Then one of us should go with Michael."
Both of them looked at each other. "You take him!" they both cried at the same time.
"Well, I'm not going with him," Liz said.
"Neither am I!" Rachel said.
"Um, Liz?" said a voice behind them. "May I speak to you for a moment?"
Both Liz and Rachel looked around. John Peterson was standing behind them. "Sure, John," Liz said, slightly surprised. He helped her up from her spot on the floor and led her to a corner where no one would hear.
"Uh, well, I know it's out of nowhere, sort of, but...will you come to the dance with me?"
"Oh, absolutely, John," Liz said.
John looked pleased. "Well, I'll...see you later, then."
"Bye," Liz said, rushing over to Rachel. "He asked me to the dance!"
"Really? Oh, Liz, you've got to tell me how it is. I bet you'll have a lot of fun."
"What are you talking about?" Liz said.
"Well," Rachel sighed, "I decided that I'm not going unless someone asks me. Which means I'm not going."
"Go with Michael! He's no going to ask anyone, and that way you won't be under the pressure of going on a date at eleven."
Rachel gave Liz a look that said that was most certainly not an option and picked up her Transfiguration book to study. Liz sighed and followed suit.
As Valentine's Day drew ever nearer, Liz found that John didn't share her views on dating at the age of eleven. He always found a way to sit next to her at breakfast, lunch, and dinner. He talked to her before classes, after classes, and (much to Liz's annoyance) during classes. Once he even offered to help her with her homework, which Liz politely declined. It got to the point where Liz hid herself in the bathrooms as he passed, asking people if they had seen her.
"Help me," she hissed one evening to Rachel and Michael, who were sitting in the common room doing homework.
"You're the one who said you'd to go the dance with him," Michael said.
"I believe your exact words were, 'Oh, absolutely, John!'" Rachel said, exaggerating and swooning.
"He won't leave me alone!" Liz complained.
"Here he comes," Michael said as John entered through the portrait hole.
Liz jumped to her feet. "If he asks, I'm not feeling well and I'm up in my dorm." She raced away and up the stairs.
At about ten, Liz decided it was safe to go back down. John usually went up to bed at nine-thirty. She found Rachel and Michael down there alone.
"The coast is clear," Rachel said.
"Good thing, too," Liz replied, taking out a book.
They sat in silence for a while, Rachel and Michael working on homework and Liz reading her book. After a while, Michael spoke up, "Do both of you have dates for the dance?"
"No, and it's not a date," Liz said quickly. "I would never date someone so annoying."
"Mmm," Michael replied. There was complete and total silence for almost ten full seconds, and then he said, "I think it's really stupid to have it as dates, you know? We're eleven."
When Liz didn't immediately agree, Rachel looked at her. She had her face completely hidden behind her book. "Yeah, I know what you mean."
"Hey, since you're not going with anybody and I'm not going with anybody, do you want to go with me? Just," he added, "as friends."
"Sure, Michael," Rachel said.
Michael nodded and returned to his homework.
February fourteenth dawned upon the towers of Hogwarts. Most of the school slept in, since it was a Saturday. Indeed, Professor McGonagall didn't turn up in the Great Hall until nearly ten o'clock.
"Look, Liz!" Rachel exclaimed at breakfast, pointing in the air at a gray owl.
Liz looked up and groaned. "It is not coming over here, it is not coming over here..."
"It's coming over here," Michael said.
"Be quiet!" Liz told him.
But the bird landed directly in front of her. It came bearing two pink roses, candy, and a note.
Happy Valentine's Day! From, John.
"Well, he didn't sign it, 'With love, your dearest John,'" Rachel said.
"Look! Pink!" Liz exclaimed excitedly. "They're pink! Pink roses! This is the happiest day of my life!"
Rachel and Michael stared at her, then at each other, and then back at her. "Maybe he put a Love Spell on it or something," Michael said.
"No!" Liz cried. "Don't you see? Pink stands for friendship! He just wants to be friends!"
"Somehow I doubt that," Rachel said. "After all, he's been following you everywhere for a week and a half."
"Yeah," Michael agreed. "Maybe the florist was out of red. Besides, I doubt he knows pink stands for friendship. I know I didn't."
Both Liz and Rachel looked at him, rolled their eyes, and looked away.
At four, Rachel pulled Liz up to their dormitory to help her get ready for the dance. "What, you need three hours to get ready?" Liz said. "You're going with your best friend!"
"Yeah, but if I look absolutely stunning, maybe a cute second-year will ask me to dance," Rachel replied, holding up her dress robes and looking at herself in the mirror.
"So you're going to just ditch Michael?"
"Of course not! I'll make sure he has a clear view of the punch bowl."
"You're hopeless, Rachel."
"I know. Now, which eye shadow goes best with my robes?"
The two got ready, and the entire time Liz wanted to scream out, "We're eleven!" but she restrained herself and helped Rachel. After that, Liz changed into her robes and stood back, admiring herself in the mirror.
"What, you're going with your hair like that?" Rachel said.
"What's wrong with my hair?"
"Oh, nothing. It's just in the exact same style as you always wear it. And no makeup? Come here. We mustn't disappoint dear John, now, mustn't we?"
Liz started to retort, but as she felt an eyeliner pencil on her eyelid, she decided she'd rather stay silent and still than lose an eye. Rachel worked on her for almost as long as she had worked on herself. "There!" she said at last. "Look at yourself! Don't you love the way the foundation matches your skin tones?"
Liz looked at herself and choked. "I look like a clown."
"No, you don't. Now for your hair."
Liz glanced desperately at the clock. "Rachel, it's six fifty-seven. The dance starts in three minutes."
"Then I'll use a spell. Hold still."
"On my hair? Rachel!"
"You'll look great. Now hold still."
Liz closed her eyes as Rachel whipped out her wand, muttered a few indistinguishable words, and aimed at her head. With trepidation, she opened one eye a crack and peeked at herself. "Wow!" she cried. Her hair was too elaborate and lovely to be described in words.
"You look great. Now let's go!"
They dashed out behind Alberta, who had tried to make her hair less stringy, and had achieved just the opposite. Michael and John were waiting for them at the foot of the stairs.
"You look great," Michael told Rachel.
"You do too," John said to Liz, who smiled weakly.
The four of them came into the Great Hall behind Desiree and her second- year date. Michael and Rachel stopped to talk, but John took Liz over to the dance floor. "I'm not very good at dancing," Liz found herself saying.
"Me neither," said John, "but it's a dance. Come on!"
Reluctantly, Liz danced with him. They twirled and spun all across the dance floor. From across it, Liz saw Chris walk in, wearing his own dress robes. She tried to call out to him, but John twirled her and dipped her. Well, he tried to dip her. The result was a not-so-graceful lading on the floor and a sore back. John helped Liz up. "Are you all right?"
Liz nodded, then said, "You know what? One of my friends just showed up, and I want to say hello. I'll be right back." And she left John on his own.
"Chris! Where are you?" she called. Dodging past a couple of sixth-years, she finally spotted him. But before she could reach him, Bettie Hess sidestepped in front of her. "Hi, I'm Bettie. What's your name?"
"Chris," he replied.
"Do you want to dance?" she asked.
"Sure."
They went off. Liz felt extremely angry. Bettie had destroyed her last chance of having a good time. She had just wanted to talk to Chris and avoid John, but those hopes were dashed. Seething, Liz made her way past Winnie Chen and Martin Steward to John.
"Did you find your friend?"
"No," she replied.
"Oh. Do you want some punch?"
She said, "Sure," and followed him to the refreshment table. He poured them both some punch from the punch bowl, which was enchanted to always refill itself. Liz sipped from her cup with the knowledge that it would be the worst night of her life and she would have to suffer through it. She glimpsed Chris and Bettie from far away, still dancing.
John and Liz seated themselves near the refreshment table. The line behind it grew and dwindled and grew again. Presently, Bettie and Chris appeared there.
Suddenly, without knowing what made her do it, Liz stuck out her foot in Bettie's way. Bettie tripped and fell face-first into the punch bowl, spilling much of it on the floor. She slipped and hit the edge of the table. The punch bowl catapulted into the crowd, drenching everyone. What was worse, the bowl kept refilling itself and dumping out its contents on the floor. Dozens of dancers ended up on the floor with it.
Professor Weasley noticed a disturbance from her perch at the High Table. "What's going on down here—" And, with a shriek and a splash, she slipped in the inch-deep puddle of punch. A couple of students attempted to help her up, but only ended on the ground next to her.
The punch was a good three inches deep before anyone thought of righting the punch bowl, and a good five inches before anyone could stand up to get near it. When it had been returned to its proper position, it floated away. Professor McGonagall waved her wand, and all the punch simply evaporated. People looked around for the origin of the commotion.
Bettie glared Liz down and stalked off without a word. Winnie Chen, drenched in the red stuff, pointed at Liz. "She did it! She did it!" she announced shrilly.
All eyes turned to Liz, who grinned weakly.