"Potter! Greengrass! Will you pay attention?"
Snape's irritated voice cracked like a whip through the Slytherin common room. He stood in front of his students, jaw clenched tightly. He had called them under mysterious pretenses, which made many whisper in wonder and curiosity.
"Now that Potter and Greengrass have been kind enough to act their age," continued Snape, with a sharp look at the pair of friends, "I have something to say to you all. The Yule Ball is approaching— a traditional part of the Triwizard Tournament and an opportunity for us to socialize with our foreign guests. Now, the ball will be open only to fourth years and above— although you may invite a younger student if you wish—"
Daphne grinned while Lyla looked up with a frown. Murmurs rose in volume.
"Dress robes will be worn," said Snape, "and the ball will start at eight o'clock on Christmas Day, finishing at midnight in the Great Hall. Now then—"
The Potions Master gazed at his house with a deliberate stare.
"The Yule Ball is, of course, a chance for us all to get to know our foreign delegations. But that does NOT mean that we will be relaxing the standards of behavior we expect from Hogwarts students."
With a swift motion of his hand, the crowd dispersed. Over the noise, Snape made a quick gesture to Lyla.
"— a word."
Giving Daphne a wide-eyed glance of curiosity, Lyla proceeded to follow the professor as he strode to the doorway of the common room, where he eyed his student wearily.
"The champions and their partners—" he began.
"What partners?" asked Lyla, her heart suddenly going into a mad tap dance.
Snape looked down at her suspiciously as though he thought she was trying to be funny.
"Your partners for the Yule Ball," he said shortly. "Your dance partners."
Lyla's insides seemed to curl up and shrivel.
"D-dance partners?" She felt herself going red. "I don't— I— dance?" she sputtered, unable to form a coherent sentence.
"Traditionally speaking," continued Snape, "the champions and their partners open the ball."
Lyla had a sudden mental image of herself in a terribly sequined dress that her mother often wore to their father's big dinner parties. She shuddered.
"It is traditional," said Snape, reading her expression of horror. "You are a Hogwarts champion and will do what is expected of you as a school representative. So make sure you get yourself a partner…"
"But — I don't —"
A week ago, Lyla would have said finding a partner for a dance would be nothing compared to taking on a Hungarian Horntail. But now that she had done the latter and was facing the prospect of asking or being asked to the ball by a practical stranger, she thought she'd rather have another round with the dragon. As the day crept by, she couldn't help but think back to what Hermione had said about Krum.
"They only like him because he's famous!"
Lyla doubted very much if any of the boys who had asked her to be their partner so far would have wanted to go to the ball with her if she hadn't been associated with being a school champion or her horrific past
"The boy with sandy brown hair wasn't so bad looking," said Daphne conversationally as she tapped her chin thoughtfully. It was lunchtime, and the small group of Slytherin friends were leisurely poking away at their food.
"He was a second year!" Lyla whispered back, face flushing furiously. "And looked like he could still be about ten!"
Theo guffawed, slapping his knees with gusto.
"This really isn't a laughing matter!" seethed Lyla through gritted teeth. "If I don't get a partner by Christmas, I'm going to look daff dancing by myself… have you asked anyone yet?"
"Indeed I have," responded the boy smugly. "And she said "oui."'
"Who'd say yes to you?!" snorted Daphne in disbelief, "when you look like a mountain troll? Terrible taste, if you ask me…"
Draco and Blaise stifled their laughter as Theo flushed, and Lyla only rolled her eyes.
"Daphne, have you been asked by anyone?" Draco said curiously.
Lyla choked on a snort of laughter while her friend grinned shamelessly.
"Yeah," she said, a bit breathlessly. "What— what about you?"
Draco shifted his gaze down and paused, biting at his bottom lip as he thought of a way to describe his situation. Everyone leaned forward, suddenly very intrigued.
"He might have mentioned something, now that I think about it," said Blaise, a dark gleam of amusement flickering in his dark eyes. "Didn't you tell Pansy something along the lines of 'sorry, I'm already going with someone else' this morning?"
"Who?" asked Daphne with narrow suspicion. "You've been with us all day. When did you have time—"
"I lied, obviously," hissed the blonde boy, cheeks ablaze. "You really think I could dance with someone like that?"
"But who did you say you'd asked?" prompted Blaise, lips curling back into a sly grin. "Come on, I think she at least deserves to know."
"Who's she?" asked Theo.
"He said Lyla!" sniggered Blaise.
Lyla frowned, both pleasantly surprised and stunned.
"I'm sorry!" interjected Draco, avoiding Lyla's gaze and focusing pointedly at a goblet of juice a few seats down the table. "I panicked, okay? It all happened so fast. First thing, I was walking to breakfast, the next, I was being cornered in by Pansy! And Lyla's name was the first thing that popped into my head— so I just— so I—"
"Well," said Lyla slowly, suddenly feeling her face go hot. "As champion, I do need a dance partner…"
Draco stopped stuttering altogether, while Blaise and Theo only shook their heads in disbelief.
"I mean," she added quickly, realizing what her words could have implied, "I only say that because, well… I do, don't I? Like I said, I'll be a laughing stock if I can't find someone…"
"… really?" the pale boy asked, finally meeting her gaze.
"I don't see the issue," said Daphne with a wink only Lyla could see. "Since you're already friends, it takes away the awkwardness, doesn't it? Lovely idea, Draco!"
Inside her chest, Lyla's heart was dancing joyfully, leaping around unevenly against her rib cage.
"Yeah," she said, clearing her throat and smiling. "I mean, us being friends should make this whole event… less stressful, right?"
Draco looked slightly crestfallen but nodded.
"This worked out well," he laughed shakily, "it would have been extremely awkward if Pansy saw me dancing by myself, wouldn't it?"
Arabella had never known so many people to put their names down to stay at Hogwarts for Christmas. This year, everyone in the fourth year and above seemed to be staying, and they all seemed to be madly obsessed with the coming ball— or at least most of the girls were.
"Why do they have to move in packs?" Ron asked Arabella as a dozen or so girls walked past them, sniggering loudly and gazing around at boys who passed. "How're you supposed to get one on their own to ask them?"
"Lasso one," Arabella suggested. "Got any idea who you're going to ask?"
"No idea," said Ron, eyeing another group of girls. "Anyone asked you yet?"
"Nope," replied Arabella. "And who says I have to wait until someone asks me?"
"Listen, you're not going to have any trouble," said Ron with a nod. "You're the sister of a champion who's just beaten a Hungarian Horntail! The boys will be lining up in no time."
"Gee, thanks, Ron," said Arabella with a sniff.
But to her amazement, her friend wasn't that far off and turned out to be quite right in the end. A curly-haired third-year Hufflepuff boy to whom Arabella had never spoken to in her life asked her to go to the ball with him the very next day. Taken aback and stunned, Arabella said no before she'd even stopped to consider the matter. The boy sighed and nodded, a look of hurt crossing his fine features.
"He was rather attractive," whispered Parvati under her breath as Flitwick talked about a charm to reduce the size of objects. "I don't understand why you said no, Arabella."
"So silly of you!" chided Lavender with a small titter of disappointment. "He's so charming, you know! Those soft sky blue eyes…."
"What's the point in going with someone if I don't know them," muttered Arabella, glowering. "Anyways, have you two got dates yet?"
Lavender giggled loudly, which she promptly turned into a series of coughs.
"Seamus!" breathed Pavarti with a giggle of her own. "He only just asked her this morning before classes."
Arabella nodded. "And you?" she asked.
"No, no one yet," the girl responded with a slight shrug. "I don't really mind going by myself if I'm being honest… you know?"
Arabella nodded very much, understanding. To her horror, two more boys asked her the following day, a second year and (to her horror) a fifth year, who looked as though he might knock her out if she refused.
"He was quite good-looking," said Ron somewhat after he'd stopped laughing.
"He was at least two feet taller than me!" said Arabella, still unnerved. "Imagine what I'd look like trying to dance with him…"
Life for the Potter sisters had greatly improved since Lyla had gotten through the first task. They weren't attracting nearly as much unpleasantness in the corridors anymore, which Arabella suspected had a lot to do with Cedric— it was possible that he might have told the Hufflepuffs and others to leave them alone in gratitude for Lyla's tip-off about the dragons. There seemed to be fewer Support Cedric Diggory! badges around too.
Pansy, of course, was still quoting Rita Skeeter's article to the sisters at every possible opportunity and more so to Lyla with new vindictive anger.
"It's because Draco refused to go to the ball with her," snickered Theo as they made their way towards Hagrid's hut for their upcoming Care of Magical Creatures class.
"Who'd want to go to the ball with a snake like her?" said Hermione darkly.
"My thoughts exactly," said Daphne. "But he and Lyla are going now together, and that appears to have ticked Pansy even more now…."
Arabella stared at Lyla and Draco throughout the lesson, doing her best to gauge if anything had changed between the two. It didn't appear so, as Lyla still seemed to be ignorant of the slight glances the boy shot her— and just to heighten Arabella's feeling of well-being, no story about Hagrid had appeared in the Daily Prophet.
"She didn' seem very int'rested in magical creatures, ter tell yeh the truth,"' Hagrid sighed when Blaise asked him how his interview with Rita Skeeter had gone during the last Care of Magical Creatures lesson of the term. To their great relief, Hagrid had given up on direct contact with the skrewts now, and they were merely sheltering behind his cabin today, sitting at a trestle table and preparing a fresh selection of food to tempt the skrewts. "She jus' wanted me ter talk about you two," Hagrid continued in a low voice. "Well, I told her we'd been friends since I went ter fetch yeh from the Dursleys. 'Never had to tell them off in four years?' she asked. 'Never played you up in lessons, have they?' I told her no, an' she didn' seem happy at all. Yeh'd think she wanted me to say yeh were horrible…."
"Of course, she did," sniffed Daphne, throwing lumps of dragon liver into a large metal bowl and picking up her knife to cut some more.
"She can't keep writing about what a tragic little hero I am," said Lyla bitterly, "it'll get boring."
"She wants a new angle, Hagrid," said Ron wisely as he shelled salamander eggs. "You were supposed to say that the Potter sisters are as mad as delinquents!"
"But they're not!" said Hagrid, looking genuinely shocked.
"She should've interviewed Filch," said Arabella grimly. "He'd give her the goods on me any day…."
"Cheers, Hagrid," said Draco, grinning.
"You coming to this ball thing on Christmas Day, Hagrid?" said Theo.
"Though' I might look in on it, yeah," said Hagrid gruffly. "Should be a good do, I reckon. You'll be openin' the dancin', won' yeh , Lyla? Who're you takin'?"
"Draco," Lyla said and flushed at the smile the giant man gave her.
"'An yeh, Arabella?"
"Uh, no one yet," said Arabella, feeling herself going red.
The last week of the term became increasingly boisterous as it progressed. Rumors about the Yule Ball were flying everywhere, though Arabella didn't believe half of them— for instance, that Dumbledore had bought eight hundred barrels of mulled mead from Madam Rosmerta. However, it seemed to be a fact that he had booked the Weird Sisters. Precisely who or what the Weird Sisters were, she didn't know, never having had access to a wizard's wireless. Still, she deduced from the wild excitement of those who had grown up listening to the WWN (Wizarding Wireless Network) that they were a famous musical group.
Some of the teachers, like little Flitwick, gave up trying to teach them much when their minds were so clearly elsewhere; he allowed them to play games in his lesson on Wednesday and spent most of it talking to Arabella about the perfect Summoning Charm, curious to see if she possessed the same skill Lyla had exhibited in the first task.
Other teachers were not so generous. Nothing would ever deflect McGonagall and Moody from keeping them working until the very last second of their classes too, and Snape, of course, who informed the class that he would be testing them on poison antidotes during the last lesson of the term.
"Evil, he is," Ron said bitterly that night in the Gryffindor common room. "Springing a test on us on the last day. Ruining the last bit of term with a whole load of studying."
"Mmm… well, you're not exactly straining yourself, though, are you?" said Hermione, looking at him over the top of her Potions notes. Ron was busy building a card castle out of his Exploding Snap pack— a much more exciting pastime than with Muggle cards because of the chance that the whole thing would blow up at any second.
"It's Christmas, Hermione," replied Ron lazily. "We've all earned a bit of a break, haven't we?"
"Arabella!"
The three of them jumped in surprise, seeing Dean and Seamus marching toward them with matching expressions of distress.
"What's the matter?" asked Hermione.
"Cedric Diggary, that's what!" said Seamus, staring at Arabella with a look of suspicion. "He's right outside the portrait hole, and he's saying he's got a question for Arabella."
"Do you reckon he's asking you to the ball?" asked Dean breathlessly, a note of dejection evident in his voice.
"Nonsense!" said Ron with a dismissive wave. "Diggary isn't that stupid. He can't go to the ball with another champion's sister!"
Arabella stood, shooting Ron a look of exasperation before nodding at the others.
"Thanks," she said before making her way to the entryway. As she neared, her throat suddenly felt as thin as a blade of grass. She pushed the portrait out and stepped out to find Cedric on the other end of the corridor, looking down at his feet.
"Hi," she said when they faced each other, only a few steps away from one another.
Cedric smiled a shy curve of his mouth, making her heart skip and tumble about.
"Seamus said you had something to ask me?"
The Hufflepuff glanced around nervously as if worried someone might overhear their conversation. Hi's cheeks were tinged a faint rosy pink, and when he did glance up to meet the other's gaze, his eyes had turned upward with excitement.
"I know I should have asked sooner—" he started in a hurried breath, "— but I got nervous and, well… chickened out…."
Very aware of what was being implied, Arabella only nodded.
"I mean… I wouldn't ask anyone else," continued Cedric more slowly. "Would you— would you, um— would you like to go to the ball with me…?"
"Yes," Arabella responded without hesitation. "I would love to go to the ball with you, Cedric."
Cedric let out a breath he'd been holding, his expression shifting into a pleased grin. Without warning, he reached out and hugged Arabella, his strong arms wrapping firmly around her shoulders. The warmth of the hug was something she hadn't been expecting, and even surprisingly, to herself, she hugged him back.
"I was terrified you'd say no," he said into her hair. "Thank you so much for saying yes…"
He abruptly leaped backward, the sudden separation leaving Arabella light-headed and breathless.
"S— sorry!" he stammered, horrified at his actions. "I should have asked— I just didn't— well, uh— I should get going then! See you later, okay?"
And without another glance, he bolted down the empty corridor.
"So, what did he want?" asked Dean when she returned. "Did he ask you to the ball?"
Arabella only smiled, to which the boy looked down, extremely crestfallen.
"Don't tell me you were actually planning on asking me, Thomas," said Arabella in a teasing manner. "We're from the same house! You've had loads of times to ask."
"I was— nervous," stuttered the boy defensively, blushing madly.
"Poor bloke," said Ron as Dean and Seamus retreated back towards the dormitories. "Guess he was just a few seconds too late… would you have said yes, Arabella, if Dean had asked?"
Arabella shrugged.
"…but you and Diggary," continued Ron, lips pursed, "that just doesn't seem right…."
"Ron," said Hermione with an exasperated sigh. "The Triwizard Tournament is a friendly tournament! Arabella is allowed to go to the ball with whoever she wants to."
Ron glowered and looked as though he were about to say something nasty. He was stopped, however, by the voices of his twin brothers.
"Ron, can we borrow Pigwidgeon?" Fred asked.
"No, he's off delivering a letter," said Ron. "Why?"
"Because Fred wants to invite him to the ball," said George sarcastically.
"Because we want to send a letter, you stupid great prat," said Fred impatiently.
"Who d'you two keep writing to, eh?" said Ron.
"Nose out, Ron," said George, waving his wand threateningly. "So . . . you got a date for the ball yet?"
"Nope," said Ron.
"Well, you'd better hurry up, or all the good ones will be gone," said Fred.
"Who're you going with, then?" said Ron.
"Angelina," said Fred promptly, without a trace of embarrassment.
"What?" said Ron, taken aback. "You've already asked her?"
"Good point," said Fred. He turned his head and called across the common room, "Oi! Angelina!"
Angelina, who had been chatting with Alicia Spinnet near the fire, looked over at him.
"What?" she called back.
"Want to come to the ball with me?"
Angelina gave Fred an appraising sort of look.
"Okay, then," she said, and she turned back to Alicia and carried on chatting with a bit of a grin on her face.
"There you go," said Fred to Ron, "piece of cake, Ron."
"What about you, George?"
"Still looking for the right time," he said mischievously. "Come on, Fred, we'd better use a school owl then. . . ."
The Hogwarts staff, demonstrating a continued desire to impress the visitors from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, seemed determined to show the castle at its best this Christmas. When the decorations went up, Lyla noticed they were the most stunning she had seen inside the school. Everlasting icicles had been attached to the banisters of the marble staircase; the usual twelve Christmas trees in the Great Hall were outfitted with everything from luminous holly berries to real, hooting, golden owls, and the suits of armor 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. Several times, Filch, the caretaker, had to extract Peeves from inside the armor, where he had taken to hiding, filling in the gaps in the songs with lyrics of his own invention, all of which were very rude.
Lyla, very aware of Draco these days, did her best to continue acting as she always had, or how she always believed she had. He seemed to do the same, though his face did appear more flushed these days.
"I wonder what it'll be like," said Daphne dreamily, missing her mouth with her morning toast. "The dancing, the food, the…."
"Bonkers, you are," said Theo with a snort. "You and— what's his name again? Polinksy?"
"Poliakoff," corrected Lyla, nibbling on a fresh piece of bacon. "And don't tease her, Theo."
"How can I not tease her?" asked the boy innocently, playing with his porridge as he spoke. "I mean, have you seen the state she's been in these past few days? She's become completely dysfunctional."
"You'd be equally as dysfunctional if Fleur had asked you to the ball," chuckled Draco. "Though, I suppose you aren't too disappointed considering…."
"She truly is a beauty," agreed the cheeky boy with an equally cheeky grin.
Lyla only listened half-heartily as her friends twittered away, the delight of being asked by Draco to the ball now a ball of anxiety and shaky nerves. The prospect of opening the entire event was really starting to sink in.
"I need to go write a letter," she said abruptly, standing and searching the Gryffindor table for her sister. "I'll see you lot later, okay?"
She found Arabella munching cheerfully on toast, talking excitedly with Hermione on what they would do to prep before the ball.
"Ara, think you can help me out with a letter to Sirius?" she said in a low voice.
After bidding their friends a quick farewell, the two sisters marched up to the Owlry, pondering what should be included.
"Tell him about the egg," suggested Arabella as she examined a great horned owl perched just above where Lyla wrote, "maybe he's come across something like it."
"Maybe," responded Lyla, feeling her stomach give an unpleasant twist. "I don't know. I just don't—"
Footsteps sounded outside, which was swiftly followed by George walking through the Owlry doorway. He seemed momentarily shocked to see it not empty.
"What are you two doing here?"
"Writing a letter to Dudley," said Arabella without hesitation. "I presume you're here to send a letter out to your mystery man?"
George only grinned and walked up to a barn owl, stroking its feathers carefully before taking out a rolled-up letter wrapped in a thin red ribbon from the pocket of his robe.
"Who are you and Fred writing to these days?" Arabella continued curiously," you two are acting very suspicious, more so than usual. Has this got anything to do with Weasley Wizard Wheezes?"
"My, how your skills of observation and perception astonish me," said George jokingly. "And no, it's not that."
"Then what?" said Lyla in puzzlement.
"Nothing for you to concern yourself with," he replied cheekily, carrying his owl to the nearest window. He watched it soar off into the distance for a minute and nodded finely. "Very nice, hopefully, the message is received…" he murmured. "Ah, right, that reminds me," he said, abruptly turning to where Arabella stood. "Er— think I could have a word with you?"
"Of course," replied Arabella, blinking in surprise. "You're not really going to tell me what you and Fred are up to, are you?"
"No, nothing like that," he laughed, scratching at the back of his head nervously.
Wait, since when did George get nervous around Arabella? Lyla watched the two out of the corner of her eye, doing a double take when she noted the boy's scarlet cheeks and bashful expression. This was entirely unexpected indeed. She did her best to appear busy and invested in her writing but had all her true focus on the conversation only feet away from where she sat.
"Well," George began, licking his lips nervously. He seemed to be having an inner conflict, his mouth moving, but no verbal words.
"I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch that," said Arabella politely, clearly unaware of what was unfolding before her.
"Wouldyouliketogototheballwithme?"
It came out in one long and hurried breath. At Arabella's blank expression, the Weasley boy inhaled sharply and tried again.
"Would you— you like to go to the ball with me?" he asked tentatively.
"Oh!" said Arabella, cheeks flushing darkly as well. "Oh, I— I'm really sorry, George, but I've already been asked by someone else and said yes."
"Oh, is that right?" asked George, face crestfallen, "but I heard Jordan say— and Fred confined it— but I guess that's changed. Okay, no problem, no problem at all. Guess I'll see you around."
And George turned towards the door, leaving without another word said.
"Oh," Arabella breathed out, "did that— I don't— he never—"
"I wonder when he started to fancy you," giggled Lyla, linking her arms through her sisters.
Arabella was still numb with shock and surprise as she slowly made her way up to Gryffindor Tower, repeatedly replaying the morning's events inside her mind. Classes had been dreadful to sit through, as not a single part of her had been motivated to pay attention. With each step she took that day, she couldn't help but hear George's voice say "heard Lee say— and Fred confined it— "
Just what did it all mean?
"Fairy lights," she said dully as she reached the portrait of the Fat Lady.
"Yes, indeed, dear!" she trilled, straightening her new tinsel hair band as she swung forward to admit her.
Entering the common room, Arabella looked around and, to her surprise, saw Ron sitting ashen-faced in a distant corner. Ginny was sitting with him, talking to him in what seemed to be a low, soothing voice.
"What's up, Ron?" said Arabella, joining them.
"Why did I do it?" he gasped, looking up at his friend with a blind sort of horror. "I don't know what made me do it!"
"Do what?" asked Arabella, clearly missing something evident.
"He — uh — just asked Fleur Delacour to go to the ball with him," said Ginny, her lips trembling as if she were fighting back a smile,
"What?" gasped Arabella.
"I don't know what made me do it!" Ron gasped again. "What was I playing at? There were people — all around — I've gone mad — everyone was watching! I was just walking past her in the entrance hall — she was standing there talking to Diggory — and it sort of came over me — and I asked her!"
Ron moaned and put his face in his hands. He kept talking, though the words were barely distinguishable.
"She looked at me like I was a sea slug or something. Didn't even answer. And then — I dunno — I just sort of came to my senses and ran for it."
Ginny was patting his back, and Arabella felt a twinge of pity for her friend. Nerves were the one aspect of his character that seemed unconquerable.
"This is mad," said Ron, chest rising and falling. "I'll be the only one who hasn't got a partner— well, except Neville. Hey — guess who he asked? Hermione!"
"Really?" said Arabella.
"Yeah, I know!" said Ron, some of the color coming back into his face as he started to laugh. "He told me after Potions! Said she's always been really nice, helping him out with work and stuff — but she told him she was already going with someone. Ha! As if! She just didn't want to go with Neville . . . I mean, who would?"
"Don't!" said Ginny, annoyed. "Don't laugh, Ron—!"
Just then, Hermione climbed in through the portrait hole.
"Why weren't you two at dinner?" she said, joining them.
"Had to ask Flitwick some questions after class," said Arabella. "Took longer than expected…"
"And Ron's just been turned down by the girl he asked to the ball!" said Ginny triumphantly.
"Thanks a bunch, Ginny," said Ron sourly.
"All the good-looking ones taken, Ron?" said Hermione loftily. "Eloise Midgen is starting to look quite pretty now, is she? Well, I'm sure you'll find someone somewhere who'll have you."
But Ron was staring at Hermione as though suddenly seeing her in a whole new light.
"Hermione, Neville's right — you are a girl. . . ."
"Oh well, spotted," Arabella said acidly.
"Well — you can come with me!"
"No, I can't," snapped Hermione.
"Oh come on," he said impatiently, "I need a partner, going to look really stupid if I haven't got one and everyone else has . . ."
"I can't come with you," said Hermione, now blushing, "because I'm already going with someone else."
"Really?" asked Arabella, thoroughly intrigued. "Who?"
"No, you're not!" said Ron simultaneously with a derisive snort. "You just said that to get rid of Neville!"
"Oh, did I?" said Hermione, and her eyes flashed dangerously. "Just because it's taken you three years to notice, Ron, doesn't mean no one else has spotted I'm a girl! And for your information, you could have asked Arabella as well before all this became such a big deal, as she too is also a girl!"
Ron stared at her. Then he grinned again.
"Okay, okay, I'm well aware you two are girls," he said. "That do? Will you come with me now?"
"Ron!" said Ginny and Arabella in unison.
"I've already told you!" Hermione said very angrily. "I'm going with someone else!"
And she stormed off toward the girls' dormitories.
"She's lying," said Ron flatly, watching her go.
"She's not," said Ginny quietly.
"Who is it then?" said Arabella. She couldn't help but feel a bit hurt that she was one of the last people to know. But then again, she hadn't exactly been functioning properly as of late.
"I'm not telling you, it's her business," said Ginny.
"Right," said Ron, who looked significantly put out, "this is getting stupid…."
But Arabella had just seen Parvati and Lavender enter through the portrait hole. The time had come for drastic action.
"Wait here," she said to Ron. "Hey Pavarti, are you going to the ball with anyone yet?"
The other girl blinked. "Are you asking me to go to the ball with you, Arabella? I'm flattered, but I thought you and Diggary—"
"It's Ron," Arabella said in a low voice. "He hasn't got a partner yet, and the idea of going alone is really freaking him out. So, can you go with him?"
Pavarti pursed her lips, cheeks flushing. Lavender had to stuff her entire first into her mouth to keep from giggling madly.
"I suppose I could," she said finally, giving Ron a quick look over before blushing again.
"Thank you, Pavarti!" said Arabella, embracing the girl quickly. "You have no idea how amazing you are!"
Pavarti and Lavender both giggled madly as they retreated to the dormitories.
Despite the hefty load of homework that the fourth years had been given for the holidays, Lyla was in no mood to work when the term ended and spent the week lead ing up to Christ mas en joy ing herself as thoroughly as pos si ble along with everyone else. Fred and George had had tremendous success with their Canary Creams, and people kept bursting into feathers all over the place for the first couple of days of the holidays. Before long, all students began treating food offered to them by those they didn't know well with extreme caution, in the case it had a Ca nary Cream concealed in the center.
"We're working on other designs," confided Fred one evening. "Georgie and I were thinking something with a bit more of a kick, you know? Lee suggested ideas like this…."
Lyla made a mental note never to accept so much as a crisp from Fred and George in the future. The memory of Dudley and the Tongue Tof fee was still quite prominent.
Snow was falling thickly up on the castle and its grounds now. The pale blue Beaux ba tons carriage looked like a giant, chilly, frosted pumpkin next to the iced gingerbread house that was Ha grid's cab in, while the Durm strang ship's port holes were glazed with ice, the rig ging white with frost. The house- elves down in the kitchen were out-doing themselves with a series of rich, warming stews and savory puddings, and only Fleur Dela cour seemed to be able to find anything to complain about.
"It is too 'eavy, all zis' Og warts food," they heard her say ing grumpi ly as they left the Great Hall behind her one evening. "I will not fit into my dress robes!"
"Oooh there's a tragedy," Lyla sniffed as Fleur entered the entrance hall.
"She really thinks a lot of herself, that one, doesn't she?" said Arabella darkly.
"Hermione— who are you go ing to the ball with?" asked Ron.
He kept spring ing this question on his friend, hoping to startle her into a response by asking it when she least expected it.
Hermione only frowned and said, "I'm not telling you, you'll just make fun of me, Ron."
"You're joking, Weasley!" giggled Pansy rudely behind them. "You're not telling me some one's asked that to the ball? Not the buck-tooth Mud blood?"
Lyla and Daphne both whipped around, but Draco said loudly, waving to somebody over Pansy's shoulder, "Hello, Professor Moody!"
The girl went pale and jumped backward, looking wildly around for Moody, but he was still up at the staff table, finishing his stew.
"Twitchy little pig, aren't you, Parkinson?" said Theo with a snort.
The group walked away howling with laughter. They had only walked a few corridors away from the Great Hall when Hermione gasped in surprise.
"Pigwidgeon's back!"
Ron's tiny owl was twittering madly as people passed by and giggled in amusement, and a group of third-year girls paused and said, "Oh, look at the weeny owl! Isn't he cute?"
"Stupid little feathery git! "Ron hissed, hurry ing up the stairs and snatching up Pigwidgeon." You bring letters to the addressee! You don't hang around showing off!"
Pigwidgeon hooted happily, his head protruding over Ron's fist. The third-year girls all looked very shocked.
"Clear off!" Ron snapped at them, waving the fist holding Pigwidgeon, who hooted more happily than ever as he soared through the air. "Here— take it," he added in an undertone as the third-year girls scuttled away, look ing scandalized. He pulled Sirius's reply off Pigwidgeon's leg. She took it and pocketed it, and they hurried to a more private area to read it. Lyla quickly unfolded her godfather's response after finding a mainly empty section in the courtyard.
Dear Lyla and Arabella,
Congratulations on getting past the Horntail. I'm very pleased to hear how everything went in the end. Whoever put your name in that goblet shouldn't be feeling too happy right now. I was go ing to suggest a Conjunctivitis Curse, as a dragon's eyes are its weakest point, but your way was better. I'm rather impressed, though knowing how spectacular your father flew, I shouldn't be.
Don't get complacent, though! You've only done one task; whoever put you in for the tournament's got plenty more opportunity if they're trying to hurt you. Keep your eyes open— you too, Arabella—! Particularly when the person we discussed is around. Concentrate on keep ing your self out of trouble.
On the topic of that egg you retrieved, I can't say I've come across anything like it. However, I'll keep my ears open in case I learn something new. Keep in touch. I still want to hear about anything unusual.
Sirius
"He sounds exactly like Moody," said Arabella, tucking the letter away with a frown. "'Constant vigilance!'
"You'd think we walk around with our eyes shut, banging off the walls..." muttered Lyla in agreement.
"But he's right," said Blaise, "you still have two tasks to do. You really should look at that egg, you know, and start working out what it means..."
"Blaise, she's got ages!" snapped Theo. "How about a game of chess instead? Lyla?"
"Yeah, okay," said Lyla. At the look on Blaise's face, though, she only grinned wider. "Oh, come off it," she laughed. "Like Theo said, I've got plenty of time."
P.S. If you could, if one has the time, please leave
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