A Study in Magic
by Books of Change
Warning/Notes: This is a BBC Sherlock and Harry Potter crossover AU. The HP timeline and BBC Sherlock's timeline has been shifted forwards and backwards to match up. One major BBC Sherlock character's gender has changed for the sake of the plot. The story was planned and written before season 2 (but incorporating elements of thereof as much as possible). Readers beware!
Chapter Sixty: The Yule Ball
In the weeks leading to Christmas, the Met experienced the usual surge in cases of theft, fraud, domestic violence and assault. After two weeks of handling Christmas themed Muggle-baiting cases on top of his December workload, Lestrade gave in and started to use magic at work—at one point actually taking Cecilia's wand out from storage and using it. He later wondered why he hadn't done this earlier after finishing his paperwork in half the time it normally took him (finding old case files was a simple matter—just use a summoning charm and voila: the folder came flying towards him). Thus Lestrade ended up having the incredible luxury of free time, in short ten minute doses, which he spent doing pointless things like throwing darts at a printed photo of Father Christmas.
On the particular day in late December, Lestrade was spending his free time contemplating the small glass jar of honey on his desk. The jar just sat innocently, the beautiful golden-orange-brown shade of its contents glowing under the florescent lights.
Lestrade was still at it when Bradstreet stopped by his office.
"Why are you staring at that honey jar?" he asked.
Lestrade looked up. "Sherlock sent it."
This time Bradstreet stared at Greg.
"Why?"
"He says it an early Christmas present."
"But in reality?"
"Still an early Christmas present," said Lestrade, amazed. "John says he's been into urban beekeeping. This is the result."
There was a pause.
"Why the bloody hell is Sherlock Holmes keeping bees?!" howled Bradstreet, making everyone in the bullpen stare.
"Dunno," said Lestrade. "Either he's training them to attack people on command or fatherhood is making him weird … weirder, I mean."
Bradstreet made an odd noise, much like a balloon half-full of marbles letting out air.
"That's violation of code twenty-three-thirteen! No Reminders of Sherlock Holmes Procreating!"
Lestrade refrained from telling Bradstreet he violated Code Twenty-Three-Thirteen himself by saying that.
"Want some?" Lestrade asked after Bradstreet finished being dramatic.
"Yeah," said Bradstreet immediately. "Got toast?"
"Mmmhmmm," said Lestrade as he took out his stash of crumpets.
"Seriously, though. What the heck?" Bradstreet asked as he sat down.
Lestrade rolled his eyes. "How should I know? I'm not actually an expert in Sherlock psychology!"
"Liar; I know for fact you and your wife have been visiting Baker Street regularly," said Bradstreet as he smeared honey all over his halved crumpet.
This time Lestrade huffed.
"You and the rest of the Uniform lads need to stop spying on Baker Street. And no, that doesn't count as evidence. The wife likes having me around when she goes to have play dates with John Watson."
Bradstreet choked on the crumpet he bit into.
"Daargh…! Twenty-Three-Thirteen…! That's another Twenty-Three-Thirteen…!"
-oo00oo-
While the news of Sherlock Holmes taking up apiculture spread through the Met's Finest like a video gone viral, the finest witches and wizards of the upcoming generation were doing as little to further their magical knowledge as possible as the term came to a close. That is, all except Hermione Granger, who was reviewing her potions notes on antidotes in the noisy Gryffindor Common Room.
"I can't believe you're not going to the ball," she overhead Seamus Finnigan saying to Harry at a neighboring table.
"Your disbelief won't change the facts," said Harry mildly.
"Most people would change their minds when so many girls ask him out," grumbled Dean Thomas. "How could you say no all of them? The last one was quite a looker, too."
"She was a foot taller than me. Imagine what I'd look like trying to dance with her."
Hermione sighed through her nose. Exchanges like these were a conundrum. On the one hand, spending as much time as possible with family made more sense than going to a fancy Ball to someone like Harry, who probably had the thought of his possible death constantly sitting in the back of his head. On the other hand, Harry practically invited people to say all sorts of insensitive comments by refusing to go to the much anticipated Yule Ball without telling the real reasons. But then again, how could he possibly talk about those reasons? He had had a difficult time admitting them even to his closest friends…
Navigating around this new Harry was a challenge, Hermione mused. He didn't brood as much, but there was a definite increase in the length of his silences and solo walks around the grounds. He was also firmer about keeping frivolous and pointless activities to bare minimum, the Yule Ball being the latest example of thereof. You could never tell what would trigger him to withdraw into his head, but you could tell when it did happen very easily, but by then it was too late. Neville didn't report any Danger Nights—Ron was no help at all, the tantrum-throwing idiot— but he couldn't say Harry was spending the nights sleeping. Hermione imagined him staying awake late into the night, turning the case in his head over and over.
All things considered, Hermione couldn't wait until Sherlock solved the Problem of how to uncover You-Know-Who's agent. The Problem was unlike any case she and her friends got involved in. As a whole, it was turning Harry increasingly dark—not in an evil way, but in a way that left many people seriously worried about him. Also, all the solutions they used so far to uncover the agent should have worked except they didn't, and no one could tell why not, not even Sherlock. And if Sherlock couldn't figure it out, who could!?
Hermione was trying very hard not to panic when Harry extricated himself from Seamus and Dean's conversation and came over.
"Sorry," he said gruffly.
Hermione stopped panicking and smiled sadly. It was a mixed blessing, Harry counting fights among the things he considered pointless. She couldn't wait until he felt safe enough to have long, drawn-out fights.
"So when are you leaving for London?" she asked.
"Friday evening after potions, probably by Floo; Hogwarts Express isn't going to run since there aren't as many students leaving Hogwarts."
Hermione's face fell. "So you can't join us for the Hogsmeade trip?"
"That should be okay. Good thing, too. I haven't done my Christmas shopping yet."
"What are you getting?"
"Sherlock sent me a wish-list," said Harry, taking it out. "He wants socks and pyjamas—the ugliest I can find."
Hermione didn't even blink at Sherlock's outré requests. She was actually expecting something weirder, like hair powder that let you grow your nose-hair into ringlets.
"I'm sure there's a clothes shop selling flashy wizardware," she said brightly.
Harry didn't smile back. "Yeah…"
"You two look cosy. Is there something we should know?"
It was Fred and George. They sat down at the table with Harry and Hermione as they both looked up.
"Harry, can we borrow Hedwig?" George asked.
"Sure, but why?" said Harry.
"George wants to invite her to the ball," said Fred sarcastically.
"We want to send a letter, why else would we want to borrow an owl?" said George.
"Why are you sending a letter?" asked Harry. "Who do you keep writing to, anyway?"
"Nose out, Harry, or I might stuff you in my trunk until Christmas," said Fred, waving his wand threateningly. "And no deductions either!"
"Wasn't even thinking it, but now that you've mentioned it…"
"Well, good luck figuring it out," said George, yawning. "Exploding Snap?"
Hermione shook her head. George shrugged and took out a pack, as well as several desserts.
"Jam tart, Hermione?" said Fred.
Hermione looked doubtfully at the pastry he was offering her. Fred grinned.
"It's all right," he said. "I haven't done anything to them. It's the custard creams you've got to watch—"
Harry, who had just picked up a custard cream, quickly put it down. Fred laughed.
"Just my little joke, Harry…"
Hermione took the jam tart. Harry remained suspicious until he saw George nibble the end of a custard cream. Only then did he pick up the one he'd put down.
"Did you get these from the kitchen, Fred?" Hermione asked as Harry took a large bite.
"Yep," said Fred. "The elves are fine, by the way."
"All of them?" said Hermione casually.
"Yes, all of them, even the one you keep talking about," said Fred, grinning at her. He put on a high-pitched squeak and imitated a house-elf. "'Winky is not drinking Butterbeer anymore! Winky is working very hard and teaching Treble the baby-elf every day!'" he dropped the imitation. "See: they're fine when you leave them as they are!"
Hermione said nothing.
"So drop the idea of leading the house-elves out on strike," said George warningly. "You're just going to upset them and put them off their cooking!"
Just then, Harry caused a slight diversion by turning into a large canary.
"Oh sorry, Harry!" Fred shouted over all the laughter exploding around their vicinity. "I forgot— it was the custard creams we hexed—"
Within a minute, however, Harry had moulted, and once his feathers had fallen off, he reappeared looking entirely normal. He even joined in laughing.
"Canary Creams!" Fred shouted to the crowd. "George and I invented them— seven Sickles each, a bargain!"
Hermione fumed as a large mass of people eagerly gathered around Fred and George. There were days when the twins' pranks made her wanted to either box their ears or write to their mother. But then they were the only people capable of making of Harry laugh lately, so she didn't.
She just couldn't.
-oo00oo-
The Friday afternoon Harry and his friends visited Gladrags Wizardwear— where they had fun selecting the most lurid socks they could find, including a pair patterned with flashing gold and silver stars and another that screamed loudly when they became too smelly— John was puttering around 221B, putting up Christmas decorations with the help of Remus Lupin.
"I could conjure fairy lights," said Remus as he spellotaped Christmas lights to the mantelpiece.
"I'm not explaining to Mrs. Hudson why there are real fairies in the flat," said John.
"I thought she was going to her sister's?"
"She always says that, but in the end she never goes—thankfully."
"Why thankfully?" Remus asked.
John put on a straight face. "Just think about it: Mrs. Hudson leaving Baker Street? England will fall!"
Everyone laughed except Sherlock, who was entertaining Benedict at the couch without much success.
"You can do it after she's done imbibing all the Christmas wine," said Sherlock after they finished laughing. "By the way, John, Mycroft is coming."
John looked at him for a moment.
"I thought he didn't do Christmas parties since they involve other human beings," John stated.
"Between managing a civil war and a Christmas party, he's choosing the lesser of two evils," Sherlock replied.
John's stare became pointed.
"Which is a Christmas party?"
"You know better than that, John."
John drew in a deep breath.
"He won't be here for the whole thing?"
"Certainly not, he'll find the prospect unbearable. The last hour of it at most."
John shrugged. "Okay."
"You know, I don't think I've ever seen Sherlock's brother," said Remus as John put boughs of fake holly around an ugly vase full of hot pink moss roses.
"Your life has been enriched a thousand fold because of it," Sherlock retorted.
Remus ignored him. "Sirius told me a little, and he sounds … very interesting."
"You think personifications of government are interesting?" said John mildly.
"It's not every day you even hear someone like that existing," said Remus, equally mildly.
John snorted.
"Well, apparently he's paying us a visit, so you can form your own opinions then. It shouldn't take you more than two minutes—Sirius currently holds the record of three seconds. Speaking of our pet dog, where is he?"
"He said he's off sending some owls to family," said Remus. "The not-jailed ones, mind you."
"He has some of those?"
"Oh yes. Molly and Sirius are cousins by marriage and Arthur's something like his second cousin once removed … He also has a first cousin, Andromeda, her Muggle-born husband Ted Tonks and their only daughter Nymphadora."
"Nymphadora," said John, wide-eyed. "Are you serious?"
"Unusual names run in his family," said Remus, chuckling. "And of course there's Lestrade, who is a cousin in more ways than one."
"That, I know," said John, grinning. "I also know Sirius has been threatening to call him Cousin Rogerius at the station and Greg is threatening to throw him in a holding cell if he dares."
"They're fighting already?" said Remus, laughing. "Anyway, Sirius said he wanted to get back in touch with everyone since Christmas is coming. He also mentioned something about meeting Muggle friends."
"Friends? Plural?" said Sherlock, eyebrows raised.
Remus laughed again. "Actually, he didn't specify how many, so it might have been singular…"
-oo00oo-
As it happened, Sirius was on the roof of 221B Baker Street, showing Molly Hooper the enchanted greenhouse Sherlock bullied him into making. He grinned broadly as Molly ooh and ahed over the flowering lemon, lime and orange trees planted inside.
"It's so nice here. How did you manage it?" Molly asked as she smelled the blossoms.
"Trade secret," said Sirius, winking. "I might tell you later."
Molly grinned. "Do you always grow fruit trees around your flat?"
"No. His Highness Holmes suddenly developed an interest in beekeeping. Bees need a food source, so he decided to set up a citrus tree garden. Of course it was my job to do the actual planting."
"He made you garden?"
"Well, I am the slave…"
Molly made a funny expression, something between a giggle and a wince. Then she pointed at the large, unglazed flowerpot full of moss roses.
"They're so pretty. Are they for honey, too?"
"Actually, I don't know," said Sirius, scratching the back of his ear in a very dog-like fashion. "Sherlock said he wanted to make citrus blossom honey, but then he planted those roses himself. I have no idea why."
Molly gave him another funny look, this one containing something bittersweet.
"Maybe they're John's favourite flower."
Sirius shook his head. "I don't think so."
Molly blinked. "No?"
"I thought the same thing, so I asked, and John said she's a barbarian when it comes to plants," said Sirius. "If they don't produce edibles, she's doesn't care either way about them."
Molly turned thoughtful. "Huh…"
They chatted a bit at the small wooden bench inside the greenhouse. Sirius appreciated the fact Molly wasn't one of those women who freaked out over bugs, especially when a large beetle that had strange markings around its eyes suddenly landed on her back. Molly was fascinated by the usual specimen, and went on at length about the different beetles she found inside cadavers. So Sirius stunned the beetle, put it in a large lidded glass jar with a couple of leaves and promised to hold onto it until she was ready to take the thing home. Sirius also added an Unbreakable Charm to the jar when Molly mentioned her cat Tobby had a tendency to pounce on bugs.
When time came for Molly to depart, Sirius invited her to the upcoming 221B Christmas Party.
"Who's going to be there?" Molly asked hesitantly.
"Lestrade and my extended family," said Sirius. "You should be fine, they're pretty harmless."
"…Sherlock?"
"He'll try to stay out for most of it. You know how he's like when he has to behave."
Molly briefly looked rueful and even pained. But then she started beaming again.
"Okay!"
Sirius returned to the flat after seeing her off, humming Rest Ye Merry Hippogriffs under his breath as he skipped up the stairs with the beetle jar tucked under his arm. The first person he encountered in the half-decorated living room was John Watson, who was polishing a gun.
"Date went well, thanks for asking," said Sirius.
"You're welcome," said John affably.
Sirius tried to exude a nonchalant air as John held the gun up and aimed at a wall.
"Do you know how much damage this thing can cause?" John asked at length.
"Enough to make a wizard refrain from using memory charms as if his life depended on it," Sirius replied.
"So we understand each other. That's good," said John. "So did you tell Molly about the Party's wizard theme?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Good. Hopefully that'll be enough when Arthur inevitably loses his head over technology."
-oo00oo-
Harry travelled to London after having dinner at the Great Hall with his friends following their trip to Hogsmeade. Sirius and Remus greeted him at 221C's fireplace when he stumbled out of it. Remus still looked grey and sickly, but he didn't seem to have any trouble walking or standing either.
"How are you?" Harry asked.
"I'm on the mend," said Remus, smiling reassuringly. "I should be ready to teach by next term."
"Don't listen to him, he saying that because he's bored to his back teeth," said Sirius. "I'm going to break his legs if he dares to go back to work before February."
Harry went up to 221B afterwards. Sherlock, John and Benedict were at the sitting room table. Sherlock was examining a DNA profile, and John was nursing Benedict and dictating to a laptop at the same time. Harry wondered if he was witnessing new technology or something Miss Jackie made as he watched the laptop's keys press themselves.
"Magic done by Arthur," said Sherlock abruptly without looking up. "Adding dictation spells to a laptop are a simple matter once you make the electronic components magic-free."
Harry rolled his eyes. "You were spying me through the window, weren't you? Creeper."
Sherlock smirked. John rolled her eyes as she beckoned Harry over. Harry approached eagerly, saying:
"I'm home."
"Welcome home," said John, smiling softly.
Harry slept well that night—the first time in weeks.
-oo00oo-
Despite the very heavy load of homework that the fourth years were given for the holidays, Harry was in no mood to work, thus spent the week leading up to Christmas doing nothing in particular when he wasn't joining Remus in his walks at Regent's Park (Sirius often pretending to be his pet dog), reading books that had nothing to do with school or magic, or rolling around the mat playing with Benedict, who was now big enough to wear clothes for nine-month-olds.
His friends at Hogwarts messaged him often during that time. Ron was the most frequent caller, for no other reason than that he still hadn't figured out who Hermione was going to the Ball with, thus kept trying to get Harry to help him figure out whom. After insisting he didn't want to speculate several times, Harry gave in and dropped a clue:
"She must have met him at the library," said Harry.
"The library," Ron repeated.
Harry nodded. "Where else could he have met her?"
Ron pulled a face. "Aren't you a helpful friend…"
In retaliation for not helping enough, Ron kept sending photos and videos of the interesting goings-on in Hogwarts just to make him feel jealous. Apparently the Canary Creams were a huge hit, because many of the videos Ron sent to him were of people suddenly bursting into feathers. George later confided to Harry in a text that the Gryffindors had learned to treat all food offered to them with great caution, in case there was a Canary Cream concealed in the centre, so he and Fred were working to develop something else. Harry made a mental note never to accept so much as a crisp from Fred and George in future.
Hermione and Julia sent him many messages, too. Predictably, Hermione asked him what Sherlock was doing and how far he was at finishing his homework. Julia preferred to send pictures and videos of Hogwarts's Christmas decorations. Harry had paid very little attention to what the Hogwarts staff was doing to the castle to impress their Durmstrang and Beauxbatons guests during the term because he was so busy, but now that he had time to look, he noticed the decorations were the most stunning he had yet seen. Everlasting icicles had been attached to the banisters of the marble staircase; the usual twelve Christmas trees in the Great Hall were bedecked with everything from luminous holly berries to real, hooting, golden owls, and the suits of armour had all been bewitched to sing carols whenever anyone passed them. It was quite something to hear "O Come, All Ye Faithful" sung by an empty helmet that only knew half the words. Then Julia sent a video that showed Filch extracting Peeves from inside the armour, where he had hid himself to fill in the gaps in the songs with lyrics of his own invention, all of which were very rude. Harry, John, Sirius and Remus shared a good laugh over that one.
"I wish I could go there," said John wistfully. "You should've stayed, Harry."
Harry shook his head. "I want to be here."
And so the days went by. Then on Christmas Eve, Harry received a very odd phone call.
"Harry, do you remember the madman from February? You know the one who kept jumping from tower to tower with a long bow?" Ron said in a rush.
"Err, yeah," said Harry, feeling bewildered.
"He's back! I saw him lurking in the Great Hall! And Harry, you won't believe what he's wearing!"
Harry felt torn. He knew exactly who Ron was talking about, and considering the man's track record, he knew his outfit would only make Harry want to look away fast before his eyes started to bleed. But then, like a horrible train wreck, Harry couldn't help but feel intensely curious as to how badly he dressed himself this time.
"Even Miss Jackie couldn't take it!" Ron went on. "She said his outfit was only acceptable twenty years ago in a country that really didn't deserve something like UFOs happening to them. Not sure what she meant by that but … Merlin, you have to see him, he's worse than even Dobby—"
"Don't show it to me," said Harry quickly. "Just … describe it."
"He's wearing fuzzy white overalls that have big green polka dots," said Ron. "They're super baggy. He only buckled one strap and it's on the wrong side. His shirt is turtleneck and rainbow."
Harry shuddered. "What else?"
"He has a bucket hat that matches his overalls and yellow fuzzy mittens. His shoes … ohmygosh, what the hell are his shoes?! They're sparkly and shiny and—"
"Okay, that's enough!" shouted Harry, unable to handle the mental images. "So why is he there?"
"I don't know and I don't want to ask!"
Of course, Harry thought, as he hollered to John that Dr. Robert was back.
-oo00oo-
Around the same time in Hogwarts, Dr. Robert Ju was standing before Ms. Jacqueline Shin, who had her face in her hands as though she was crying. The students still lingering in the Great Hall watched the scene breathlessly from a distance, wondering what was going on and what was going to happen next.
At length, Jacqueline lowered her hands, crossed her arms and glared at Robert dry-eyed.
"I believe I sent you an outfit, Robert," she said severely.
Robert started scratching his neck like a gorilla that ate far too much. "I thought it was for tomorrow."
Jacqueline looked like she wanted to stomp her foot. "There was a second package."
Robert blinked. "Uh … I didn't think to look for it, sorry."
Jacqueline let out muted 'augh!' After mashing her fists against her forehead several times, she stomped her foot against the marble floor.
"Oh, I give up, it's too late now!" she cried. "Forget it, Robert, let's go. The damage is already done."
"Is it really that—"
"Robert," Jacqueline interrupted. "Nothing you say about your clothes will ever make it okay. Do you understand?"
"Yes."
"Good. Now move."
Robert grinned. He quickly drew a portal right beneath their feet, and in the next blink, they vanished.
-oo00oo-
Ron woke up late on Christmas Day, having stayed up watching Hermione and Ginny interrogate Julia about the madman they saw in the Great Hall yesterday (she refused to comment). He and Neville talked about it later in their dormitory, and they agreed the madman couldn't be the person Miss Jackie was seeing, she was better than that.
Ron started unwrapping his presents after Seamus, Dean and Neville got up. He got a pair of violet socks and another maroon jumper from mum (just like the year before … and year before that…). The rest of his presents were more satisfactory with the exception of Mr. Jeremy's, which consisted of a suit made of shiny blue material, a black skinny tie and white shirt with a rounded collar. The ensemble was totally something Mr. Jeremy would wear, but Ron couldn't picture himself wearing them unless he absolutely had to. Hermione's gift was a vast box of Chocolate Frogs; Neville, another box of sweets, containing many of his favourites from Honeydukes; Julia, Victor Krum's autograph (how?!); and Harry, a Chudley Cannon hat.
Ron and Neville met up with Hermione and Ginny in the common room, and they went down to breakfast together. Julia had already finished eating her rabbit food by the time they got there.
"When did you get it?" asked Ron after thanking her for the autograph.
"Few weeks ago, at the library," said Julia, smiling crookedly like Miss Jackie.
They spent most of the morning in the Music Room, comparing and enjoying each other's presents, then returned to the Great Hall for a magnificent lunch, which included at least a hundred turkeys and Christmas puddings, and large piles of Cribbage's Wizarding Crackers.
They went out onto the grounds with Fred and George in the afternoon; the snow was untouched except for the deep channels made by the Durmstrang and Beauxbatons students on their way up to the castle. Hermione chose to watch their snowball fight rather than join in, and at five o'clock she, Julia and Ginny said they were going back to the castle to get ready for the ball.
"What, you need three hours?" said Ron, looking at them incredulously and paying for his lapse in concentration when a large snowball, thrown by George, hit him hard on the side of the head. "Who're you going with?" he yelled after Hermione, but she just waved and disappeared up the stone steps into the castle.
There was no Christmas tea today, as the ball included a feast. So at seven o'clock, when it had become hard to aim properly, the others abandoned their snowball fight and trooped back to the common room. The Fat Lady was sitting in her frame with her friend Violet from downstairs, both of them extremely tipsy, empty boxes of chocolate liqueurs littering the bottom of the picture.
"Lairy fights, that's the one!" she giggled when they gave the password, and she swung forward to let them inside.
Ron, Seamus, Dean, and Neville changed into their dress robes in their dormitory, all of them looking very self-conscious. Ron briefly considered wearing the dress robes his mum got for him just be polite, and ultimately decided Mr. Jeremy's shiny blue suit was the lesser of two evils considering Mum's robes were a maroon velvet abomination that had lace on the ruff and cuffs.
"Don't you look fancy," muttered Dean after he finished dressing.
"The Business Director of MMN occasionally needs to dress the part," said Ron gloomily as he tried to correct his tie.
The common room looked strange, full of people wearing different colours instead of the usual mass of black. Ginny was waiting for them at the foot of the stairs. She wasn't wearing the pink and orange farce Mum got for her, but elegant teal-coloured dress robes that had long sleeves overlaid with dark green lace and black crystal beads.
"You—er—look nice," Neville said awkwardly.
"Thanks," said Ginny, smiling.
"Where'd you get that?" Ron asked.
"I borrowed it from Julia," said Ginny, glaring. "Speaking of, she's going to meet us in the entrance hall."
"Fine," said Ron, looking around. "Where's Hermione?"
Ginny shrugged. "She went ahead. Anyway, shall we go?"
"Okay."
They left the common room and navigated through the crowded hallways. The entrance hall was packed with students too, all milling around waiting for eight o'clock, when the doors to the Great Hall would be thrown open. Those people who were meeting partners from different Houses were edging through the crowd trying to find one another. Ron surveyed the heads of the crowd, hoping to spot Hermione. Then he felt his sleeve tugged at, so he looked down instinctively.
A pretty girl wearing deep indigo dress robes and silver-and-pearl earrings was there. It took several seconds for Ron to recognise who she was, and when he did, his jaw dropped for a second.
"Hello," said Julia.
"Uh, hi," said Ron, marvelling at the difference the lack of glasses alone was making. He also wondered what Julia had done to her hair to make it curl in long shiny waves, because he was certain her normal hair was straight, dark and boring. "So have you seen Hermione?"
Julia put on a crooked smile.
"No."
A group of Slytherins came up the steps from their dungeon common room. Malfoy was in front; he was wearing dress robes of black velvet with a high collar, which in Ron's opinion made him look more of a ponce. Pansy Parkinson in very frilly robes of pale pink was clutching Malfoy's arm. Crabbe and Goyle were both wearing green; they resembled moss-coloured boulders, and neither of them, Ron was pleased to see, had managed to find a partner.
The oak front doors opened, and everyone turned to look as the Durmstrang students entered with Professor Karkaroff. Krum was at the front of the party, accompanied by a very pretty girl in periwinkle blue dress robes Ron thought looked strangely familiar. Over their heads he saw that an area of lawn right in front of the castle had been transformed into a sort of grotto full of fairy lights—hundreds of fairies sitting in the rosebushes that had been conjured there, and fluttering over the statues of what seemed to be Father Christmas and his reindeer.
Then Professor McGonagall's voice called, "Champions over here, please!"
The crowd parted to let the champions through. Fleur Delacour and Roger Davies stationed themselves nearest the doors; Davies looked so stunned by his good fortune in having Fleur for a partner that he could hardly take his eyes off her. Cedric and a small pretty girl Ron assumed was Cho Chang stood next to the pair. His eyes then fell on the girl next to Krum, and Ron felt his jaw drop.
It was Hermione.
But she was a strange, cleaned up version Hermione. She had done something with her hair; it was no longer bushy but sleek and shiny, and twisted up into an elegant knot at the back of her head. She was wearing robes made of a floaty, periwinkle-blue material, and she was holding herself differently, somehow— or maybe it was merely the absence of the twenty or so books she usually had slung over her back.
She was also smiling.
That enraged Ron. How dare she smile and look like she was enjoying herself apart from her friends! Ron refused to look at her direction when the doors to the Great Hall opened to let in all the students, and just stomped right past her.
Ron barely noticed the Hall, which he vaguely noted looked very different. He saw the large round table at the top of the Hall, where the judges were sitting, and guessed that was where the Champions would sit. So he hurried over one of the round tables close by and secured a seat that would better let him spy on Krum—and Hermione. Julia followed, and sat next to him with a deep sigh.
Once everyone else was settled in the Hall, the doors opened again, and they saw Professor McGonagall—who was wearing dress robes of red tartan and had arranged a rather ugly wreath of thistles around the brim of her hat—standing before the threshold, the champions and their partners behind her in line. Everyone in the Great Hall applauded as they entered and started walking up towards the judges. Ron didn't clap, but watched Hermione with narrow eyes. She still looked happy and giddy. That infuriated him more.
Dumbledore smiled happily as the champions approached the top table, but Karkaroff wore an expression of barely concealed disapproval (which Ron approved of) as he watched Krum and Hermione draw nearer. Ludo Bagman, tonight in robes of bright purple with large yellow stars, was clapping as enthusiastically as any of the students; Madame Maxime, who had changed her usual uniform of black satin for a flowing gown of lavender silk, was applauding them politely; Mr. Crouch was clapping politely, too, and he didn't look enthused about the occasion—in fact, he looked slightly bored.
Ron looked down at the table when the champions and their partners sat down at the head table. There was no food as yet on the glittering golden plates, but small menus were lying in front of each of them. He picked up the menu and spied Dumbledore doing the same. Dumbledore studied his menu carefully, and then said very clearly to his plate, "Pork chops!"
And pork chops appeared. Getting the idea, everyone else placed their orders with their plates too. Ron was about to order steak-and-kidney pie when he noticed Hermione was deep in conversation with Krum—meaning Krum was talking back, and very enthusiastically at that. It was so indecent Ron forgot what he'd intended to order.
"Your lack of appetite worries me," said Julia over her plate of meatless Kedgeree.
When all the food had been consumed, Dumbledore stood up and asked the students to do the same. Then, with a wave of his wand, all the tables zoomed back along the walls leaving the floor clear, and then he conjured a raised platform into existence along the right wall. A set of drums, several guitars, a lute, a cello, and some bagpipes were set upon it.
The Weird Sisters now trooped up onto the stage to wildly enthusiastic applause. The Champions and their partners headed over the dance floor as the Weird Sisters stuck up a mournful tune. More people joined the dance floor once the Champion pairs started dancing. Hermione looked like she was enjoying herself immensely as she danced with Krum. Damn it.
"Do you want to dance?" asked Julia.
"No," said Ron shortly.
"Okay," Julia sighed. Then she took out her phone and started texting.
Soon the dance floor was too full of people for Ron to properly spy on Hermione. He saw Neville and Ginny dancing — Ginny wincing frequently as Neville trod on her feet — and Dumbledore waltzing with Madame Maxime. He was so dwarfed by her that the top of his pointed hat barely tickled her chin; however, she moved very gracefully for a woman so large. He also saw Miss Jackie dancing with a strange man wearing an impeccable three piece suit of royal purple and sedate black tie. Ron assumed he was the man she was actually seeing.
"Aunt Jackie must've coordinated his outfit," said Julia wryly as she took a picture of the pair.
The Weird Sisters finished playing their first song, and applause filled the hall once more. Once the clapping stopped, the Weird Sisters struck up a new song. Ron narrowed his eyes when he finally caught the sight of Krum and Hermione. He followed their progress carefully, and while he was at it, he vaguely heard a boy from Beauxbatons ask Julia to dance.
"I assume you don't mind," Julia said as she went off.
Hermione came over and sat down in Julia's empty chair after the second song ended. She was a bit pink in the face from dancing.
"It's hot, isn't it?" said Hermione, fanning herself with her hand. "Viktor's just gone to get some drinks."
Ron gave her a withering look. "Viktor? Hasn't he asked you to call him Vicky yet?"
Hermione looked at him in surprise—surprise!
"What's up with you?" she said.
"If you don't know," said Ron scathingly, "I'm not going to tell you."
Hermione stared at him.
"Ron, what—?"
But by this time Ron was almost blind with rage. He so angry he couldn't even sort through all the reasons why he was so angry at Hermione, so he reached for the first one he could think of.
"Krum's from Durmstrang!" Ron spat. "He's competing against Hogwarts! You— you're—" Ron casted around for words strong enough to describe Hermione's crime, "fraternizing with the enemy, that's what you're doing!"
Hermione's mouth fell open.
"Don't be so stupid!" she said after a moment. "The enemy! Honestly — who was the one who was all excited when they saw him arrive? Who was the one who got so excited when he got his autograph for Christmas? Who's got a model of him up in their dormitory?"
Ron chose to ignore this. "I s'pose he asked you to come with him while you were both in the library?"
"Yes, he did," said Hermione, the pink patches on her cheeks glowing more brightly. "So what?"
"What happened — trying to get him to join your House-elf liberation movement, were you?"
"No, I wasn't! If you really want to know, he— he said he'd been coming up to the library every day to try and talk to me, but he hadn't been able to pluck up the courage!"
Hermione said this very quickly, and blushed so deeply that she was the same colour as Parvati's robes. Ron didn't think he could get angrier, but he did.
"Yeah, well— that's his story," snarled Ron.
"And what's that supposed to mean?"
"He's probably hoping you'll help him find out what his egg means! I suppose you've been putting your heads together during those cosy little library sessions—"
"I'd never help him work out that egg!" said Hermione, looking outraged. "Never! How could you say something like that?! And why would he ask me for help, anyway?"
"All of the Champions know we're involved with the Tournament!" shouted Ron. "He probably thought you have insider information! How did this NOT occur to you, you're supposed to be clever! Or maybe you did know, but you didn't mind sharing some pointers…"
Hermione looked as though Ron had slapped her. Ron refused to feel guilty about this.
"For your information," she said in a quivering voice. "He hasn't asked me one single thing about the tournament or the egg, not one—"
Ron didn't want to hear more excuses.
"Why don't you go and find Vicky, he'll be wondering where you are," he sneered.
"Don't call him Vicky!"
Hermione jumped to her feet and stormed off across the dance floor, disappearing into the crowd. Ron watched her go feeling a mixture of anger and satisfaction.
"That was nice of you," said Julia, who apparently returned.
Ron ignored her and continued to glare at the dance floor. There, Fred and Angelina were dancing so exuberantly that people around them were backing away in fear of injury. Professor Dumbledore was dancing with Professor Sprout, Ludo Bagman with Professor McGonagall; Madame Maxime and Hagrid were cutting a wide path around the dance floor as they waltzed through the students, and Karkaroff was nowhere to be seen.
"Vare is Herm-own-ninny?" said a voice.
Krum had just arrived at their table clutching two butterbeers.
"No idea," said Ron mulishly, looking up at him. "Lost her, have you?"
Krum turned surly.
"Veil, if you see her, tell her I haff drinks," he said, and he slouched off.
The song ended, everybody applauded once more, and Ludo Bagman kissed Professor McGonagall's hand and made his way back through the crowds, at which point Fred and George accosted him. Ludo Bagman shook off Fred and George fairly quickly, however, and sat back behind the top table next to Mr. Crouch, who hadn't left his seat all evening. Crouch didn't bother to turn and just drank deeply from his wineglass when Bagman started talking to him.
Julia was asked by another boy for the fourth song, and she went off again with him. Ron remained in his seat, watching Hermione dance. The sight made him want to kick something or upend the table, and yet he couldn't bring himself to look away either.
About half-way through the Ball, Julia suddenly came over and slapped the back of his head.
"What was that for?" asked Ron furiously.
"You wonder why," said Julia ironically. "Now listen, do you want to make some people really angry?"
Ron frowned. "What do you mean?"
Julia jerked her nose at a certain direction. There, Malfoy was dancing with a third year Slytherin girl. He threw a contemptuous look at Ron when he noticed him looking. Close by, at the Top Table, Hermione was talking animatedly with Krum.
"Alright, I'm in," Ron muttered furiously. "But how are we going to do it?"
"Just follow me," said Julia.
She took Ron by the hand and dragged him to a secluded spot close to the stage. There was an electronic music player connected to the speakers there. Julia quickly did something to it. Then she dragged Ron to the dance floor. Ron was about to ask how was dancing supposed to make either Malfoy or Hermione angry when the Weird Sisters left the stage for an intermission break. A disappointed murmur spread through the students as they wondered what was going to happen next.
"Honestly, do they think they can play live all night? Even the Weird Sisters need a break," Julia huffed.
"Why are we here, then?" asked Ron. "There isn't going to be more music, since—"
Just then, Ron heard Muggle music playing. It sounded very familiar. The song had an underlying clapping beat and the disembodied singer said that they were going to 'get funky' this time. As the song progressed, Ron suddenly realised where he heard the song from: it was the YouTube video Harry showed him once, where large groups of people from all around the world danced according to the black singer's directions.
Then the wall behind the stage showed the aforementioned YouTube video.
"You did not," Ron gasped as all the half-blood and Muggle-born students rushed back to the dance floor.
"Yes, I did," said Julia, smirking. "Shall we dance?"
Ron briefly spied Malfoy; he looked outraged.
"Yeah…!"
-oo00oo-
"What is this?" growled Bartemius Crouch as he stared at the large body of students on the dance floor with an appalled look on his face. All of them were dancing enthusiastically according to the black Muggle singer's directions.
"Who cares?! It's looks really fun!" cried Ludo Bagman as he imitated the students.
"Dumbledore, what is this outrage?!" Crouch demanded furiously.
Dumbledore didn't reply; he was too busy laughing. His laughter only increased when the next music video played — it featured a stout oriental man doing a funny galloping dance with his wrists crossed. Unable to handle this anymore, Crouch stormed off, shattering his wineglass on the way.
"Oh, dear me," said Dumbledore as he watched Crouch leave.
Then, still chuckling, he quickly banished the shards with a flick of his wand.
-oo00oo-
Ron had to admit, the latter half of the Ball was lots of fun, especially when he noticed how angry Malfoy was. Clearly he couldn't stand what he was seeing. This made him determined to enjoy the dancing as much as possible, and soon he found himself actually enjoying the bouncing and twirling around. Julia was a fantastic partner for his cause. She actually knew how to dance, and refused all the dance offers from other boys so she could keep dancing with Ron. That pleased him a lot.
The Weird Sisters returned to the stage after the thirty minute intermission and continued to play until midnight. Everyone gave them a last, loud round of applause and started to wend their way into the entrance hall. Ron and Julia joined the departing throng, and out in the entrance hall Ron saw Hermione saying good night to Krum before he went back to the Durmstrang ship. She gave Ron a very cold look and swept past him up the marble staircase without speaking.
Ron looked away, feeling furious again. He wanted to do something that would make Hermione extra-angry. He just couldn't think what.
"That was fun, wasn't it?" said Julia, patting her sweaty forehead with handkerchief.
"Yeah," said Ron. "Yeah, and your idea was brilliant."
Julia smiled crookedly. "Thank you."
"No really," said Ron, even as he wondered why he was saying this. "You really are brilliant. I reckon you're actually smarter than Hermione, you just don't show it."
"Liar."
"Nope, not lying," Ron lied. Then he took a moment to study Julia.
She was quite good-looking, Ron thought. She wasn't curvy like the way he liked girls, but the willowy look suited her. He also wasn't lying about her being brilliant, though he was hedging around the truth when he said she might be cleverer than Hermione … Alright, it was a downright lie, but she didn't need to know that. Anyway, Julia was definitely someone he could show off to other people, and feel absolutely proud to have as a dance partner or someone he—
Ron hesitated for a second. But then he thought about Hermione, and a reckless rage seized him. So he started to go ahead with his idea.
A feather-light touch of fingertips on his chest halted Ron in his tracks. Ron looked down and saw the hand keeping him at bay. The pressure was so light he could've gone ahead if he wanted to, and yet, Ron found himself unable to resist when Julia gently pushed him away.
A heavy silence hovered between them for several heartbeats. Ron felt himself turn red as time ticked by.
"Uh…" he stuttered.
"You're a good friend," said Julia quietly. "I want to keep it that way. So no."
Ron was speechless.
They looked at each other silently for several more blinks. Then, with a swish of hair, Julia walked away.
Ron watched her go, and all he could think was: Damn…
-oo00oo-
Final Notes: Thus ends Yule Ball. Finally. I think this chapter tops all the others in terms of sheer ridiculousness. Sorry for the 2.5 week wait. I'm having a hard time finding the time to write lately. My June-July-August looks very packed. :(
In case you were wondering, Robert was wearing purple holographic high top sneakers that were two sizes too big.