Lyla awoke very suddenly on Christmas Day. Wondering what had caused her abrupt return to consciousness, she slowly peeled open her eyelids and saw something with enormous, round, green eyes staring back at her in the darkness, so close they were almost nose to nose.
"Dobby!" she yelled, scrambling away from the elf so fast she almost fell out of bed. "Don't— please don't do that!"
"Dobby is sorry, ma'am!" squeaked the elf anxiously, jumping backward with his long fingers over his mouth. "Dobby is only wanting to wish Lyla Potter a 'Merry Christmas' and bring her a present, ma'am! The Potter's did say Dobby could come and see them sometimes, right ma'am?"
"Oh yes, it's okay," said Lyla, breathing relatively faster than usual while her heart rate returned to normal. "Just— just prod me or something in the future, okay? Don't bend over me like that… Arabella isn't going to like that either…"
"Oh, but Dobby has already visited Miss Arabella Potter, and she seemed okay!" squeaked Dobby eagerly.
Lyla pulled back the curtains around her four-poster and yawned loudly. It appeared as if her yell had woken Daphne.
"Someone attacking you, Lyla?" she asked sleepily.
"No, I'm alright," muttered Lyla, blinking the sleep from her eyes. "It's just Dobby. Go back to sleep, Daph."
But her friend was now wide awake.
"Presents!" she said excitedly, spotting the large pile at the foot of her bed. Lyla turned back to Dobby, who was now standing nervously next to her bed, still looking worried that he had upset her. There was a Christmas bauble tied to the loop on top of his tea cozy.
"Can Dobby give Lyla Potter her present?" he squeaked tentatively.
"Of course, you can," said Lyla kindly. "Uh… I've got something for you, too, now that I think about it."
It was a lie; she hadn't bought anything for Dobby at all, but quickly opened her trunk and pulled out a particularly flowery pair of socks free. They were her old est set and had become somewhat foul over the years.
"Sorry, I, uh, forgot to wrap them..."
But Dobby was utterly delighted.
"Socks are Dobby's favorite clothes, ma'am!" he said, ripping off his odd ones and pulling on the ghastly pink ones. "I has seven now, ma'am...But I..." he said, eyes widening, having pulled both socks up to their greatest extent so that they reached to the bottom of his shorts, "they has made a mistake in the shop, Lyla Potter, they is giving you two the same!"
"Oh no, Lyla, how come you didn't spot that?" giggled Daphne, grinning over from her bed, now strewn with wrapping paper.
Dobby now handed Lyla a small package, which turned out to be— socks.
"Dobby is making them himself, ma'am!" the elf said happily. "He is buying the wool out of his wages, ma'am!"
The left sock was bright red and had a pattern of broomsticks up on it; the right sock was green with a pattern of Quaffles and Snitches.
"They're...they're really...well, thanks, Dobby," said Lyla, and she pulled them on, causing Dobby's eyes to leak with happiness again.
"Dobby must go now, ma'am, we is already making Christmas dinner in the kitchens!" And he hurried out of the dormitory, waving goodbye to Daphne as he passed.
Eager to see what else she'd gotten, Lyla dug into her other unopened packages. Blaise and Hermione had gifted two large volumes on the topic of Quidditch alone, while Ron, a large bag of Dung bombs; Arabella, a vast selection of magical chocolates; her parent's a new set of writing quills; Sirius, a handy penknife with attachments to unlock any lock and undo any knot; Draco, two emerald green scarfs with a matching set of gloves; Theo, a brand new set of potion ingredients; and Hagrid, a box of sweets that included all of Lyla's favorites: Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, Chocolate Frogs, Drooble's Best Blowing Gum, and Fizzing Whizbees. Mrs. Weasley's usual package included a new sweater (green, with a picture of a gray dragon on it— she supposed Charlie had told his mother all about the Horntail) and a large quantity of homemade mince pies.
Arabella met with the rest of her friends for a quick breakfast and then a stroll onto the grounds 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 the other's vicious snowball fight rather than join in, and at five o'clock, said she was going back upstairs to get ready for the ball.
"Oh, come one now, Hermione!" called Fred, aiming a particularly icy ball at the back of Theo's head, "you might as well enjoy the snow while it lasts!"
Arabella laughed and sat beside her friend to take a quick break, ringing ice-cold water from her dark locks. George and Lee had dropped a rather wet and large snowball on the top of her head that had ignited the battle that was currently playing out in the courtyard.
"What, you need three hours?" asked Theo incredulously, looking at Hermione as if she'd grown three heads.
"I think I'll head in, too," Arabella said, flashing the group an apologetic grin. "Believe it or not, boys, looking good does take a little effort…"
There was no Christmas tea that day, as the ball was to include a feast. Arabella, who sadly wasn't at all one of those girls who was in touch with femininity, frowned at her reflection. Her usual messy dark hair had been smoothed back and curled into a wave of loose tendrils, topped off by two delicate braids that began at her temples and ended in a small knot at the back of her head. Parvati had insisted that she string a thin golden ribbon to lace through the braids while Lavender offered a golden chain with a pattern of pearls.
"Oh, really," said Arabella now, blushing fiercely, "guys, this is all— I mean, thank you, but it's all a bit—"
"Nonsense!" declared Pavarti, holding up a set of earrings thoughtfully. "As someone who has known you for three years, you've hardly ever shown interest in dressing up until now! I can't miss this opportunity! Now sit back and let me and Lav do everything in our power to make you absolutely astonishing."
"And this will only make your dress pop even more!" assured Lavender with a knowing smile, holding up a set of velvet gloves. "You've got to show Diggary you mean business."
"But you've also got to get ready— you can't do that with fawning over me—"
"And we will," responded Pavarti cheerily, "but for now, let's just—"
"Hermione?!"
Hermione, however, only smiled in her mirror. Already dressed in a gorgeous periwinkle-blue gown, she was currently twisting her now sleek hair into a fancy and complicated knot on top of her head. With each movement she made, it looked as if she was floating.
After a few more minutes of fussing that felt like hours of applying soft brushes to her eyes and cheeks, Parvati and Lavender finally stepped back to examine their work.
"You look stunning!" gushed Pavarti with a satisfied smile.
Lavender clapped excitedly while Hermione nodded in agreement. As the two other girls busied themselves with their own dress robes, Arabella slowly turned to face the full-length mirror at the foot of her bed and gasped audibly. The person reflected before her was an absolute stranger. Her skin resembled that of the surface of unblemished marble, the green of her eyes extremely noticeable, surrounded by a perfectly applied layer of black and brown eyeshadow. What looked to be rhinestones rested at the corners of her inner eye, and her lashes looked longer than they truly were.
"What did you two do?" she said in a terrified whisper. "I look like— I don't look like myself— I look—"
"You look fantastic," finished Hermione, quickly squeezing her friend around the middle. "Now put your robes on and finish up! We've only got a couple of minutes until the dance starts."
As she shimmied into the scarlet dress robe Mrs. Weasley had bought her, she wondered what Cedric would say the minute he saw her. Would he laugh at her? What would the rest of her friends say once they saw her all dolled up?
"Oh, whoa!" breathed out Lavender, turning to face her friend with wide eyes. "That looks amazing on you!"
The dress robes exposed much more of Arabella's collarbone than she liked, with soft, delicate lace outlining the neckline. The sleeves were soft velvet fabric that ended midway up her arm, flaring out towards the ends, while the bodice hugged around the torso, and the silky skirt flaring around her hips. With the makeup, hair, and jewelry, Arabella honestly looked like an entirely new person.
"Mrs. Weasley sure knows her dress robes," said Arabella between frozen lips.
"Incredible!" breathed out Daphne, watching as Lyla twirled about the dormitory in her dress robes. "Who knew Mrs. Weasley was so good at picking out gorgeous dress robes! With all those sons, one would think she'd be at a loss, but no—"
The bottle green dress was elegant and mature, the v-neck emphasizing the girl's small chest. Lyla liked that a lot. The silken skirt gracefully dragged on the floor with each step she took, the sleeves carefully embroidered with various shades of green lace that went all the way down to her wrists, draping over her palms as soft as dove's wings.
"While I do agree," laughed Lyla, coming to a standstill and touching up the makeup her friend had applied moments ago, "you're the one who looks breathtaking."
Daphne blushed. Her dress was that one that reminded Lyla of a princess's gown, with a large skirt and a delicate bodice made of sheer and beautifully embroidered that resembled gray vines creeping up the other's arms. Her fingers had been decorated with gorgeous rings, her neck adorned in a silver pendant that carried within its center a dazzling diamond. Silver sparkles outlined her eyes.
"You look like a snow queen," Lyla gushed, putting in a set of silver swan earrings her friend had offered to share.
"I wonder what Arabella's going to look like," said Daphne, applying more glitter to her eyelids with a light hand. "Oh, and of course, Poliakoff…"
Lyla was quickly lacing her silver-heeled shoes, bracelets jingling against one another. "Look at the time, Daphne!" she cried out, straightening and beginning to make her way to the door, "we've got to go, or the ball will start without us."
"Can't have that," snorted her friend, falling into step. "Just think what would happen if one of the people opening the dance wasn' there? Dreadful, wouldn't it be?"
The common room looked strange, full of people wearing different colors instead of the usual mass of black. Draco, Theo, and Blaise were waiting at the head of the stairs. Their outfits looked somewhat similar to one another in color and design, though varied in details around buttons, collars, ties, and sleeves. All of them appeared taken aback as the girls approached them, which made Daphne absolutely glow.
"Gorgeous, aren't we?" she asked with a slight spin
Lyla felt momentarily self-conscious, distracting herself with amusing thoughts on how Draco's collar reminded her of a vicar. Besides that, he looked very handsome, blonde hair brushed back to better expose his pale eyes, one's that were currently observing her.
"You look— pretty," said Draco, smiling somewhat awkwardly.
Lyla felt a surge of blood to the face and unconsciously tossed a sheet of her scarlet hair backward to better expose her neck. She was suddenly sweating bullets.
"Thank you, you look pretty as well," she said breathlessly. Smacking herself in the face mentally for how stupid the comment sounded, she abruptly turned to face the remainder of her friends with raised brows. "Don't you three have partners to meet out in the entry hall?"
"Yes, we do," said Blaise with a sarcastic smirk. "Don't you and Draco have somewhere to be yourselves?"
"What do you—? Oh, you must mean— Oh yes, opening the ball…"
"Shall we?" the blonde boy asked hesitantly, holding out his arm in a clear manner that requested Lyla take it.
It was a move she'd seen play out in every romance movie set in an older time, and the gesture made her blush madly.
"Yeah," she said, swallowing her nerves and beaming brightly.
Arabella had found Ron in the common room waiting for Parvati, whose robes were a very pretty pink, with her long dark plait braided with gold and gold bracelets glimmering at her wrists. Her eyes had been outlined in coal eyeliner, her neck decorated in delicate chains and pendants. When the two approached him, his eyes went wide in stunned surprise.
"You two— er— look nice," he said awkwardly.
"Thanks," said Pavarti, gaze lingering on the frayed neck and sleeves of his dress robes as she looked him up and down.
"Well, I'll see you two later," Arabella said, unconsciously brushing her hands over her velvet sleeves. "I've got to meet Cedric in the entrance hall."
After bidding her friends farewell, she hurriedly approached the portrait hole. She passed the Weasley twins, who were watching Angelina and Katie approach them, both girls swathed in deep blue and purple. A weight that Arabella had not been aware of lifted from her chest, glad to see George take Katie's hands in his.
The entrance hall was crowded and loud, with the calls of people trying to find their dates from other houses and schools. Eyes from all directions gazed at Arabella as she passed, some forgetting to hide their surprise while others whispered eagerly behind their hands.
"Wow, she cleans up nicely," said a sixth-year girl in utter shock.
"Her hair's so neat," murmured a fourth-year boy she'd only seen in passing, "and to see that she's had a decent rack the whole time—"
Doing her best to ignore the nastier of the comments, Arabella pushed forward closer to the hall doors, which were currently closed. Now that she thought about it, Cedric hadn't actually told her a location to meet up, and nor had she told him of one. The flurry of color and bustle made a wave of unease pass over Arabella, quickly dispelled when someone asked: "Arabella, is that you?"
She turned and came face to face with the handsome sixth year, his light brown hair combed expertly to the side, eyes scanning her in a mixture of amazement and something else.
"Please don't laugh," she begged, very self-conscious. "I know I look ridiculous— I've never looked like this in my life ever— I—!"
"Why would I laugh?" questioned Cedric seriously. "You're… you're beautiful, Arabella, nothing funny about it…"
"Really?" she breathed out, too stunned to say more.
"Yeah, really," Cedric said without missing a beat. "Well, shall we head to the doors?" he asked, holding out his arm, "I think I saw Fleur and her partner head that way as well."
"Yeah, alright, I suppose," she replied, reaching out and linking their arms together. Could he hear how madly her heartbeat was racing?
Then McGonagall's voice called, "Champions over here, please!"
The chattering crowd parted to let them through. McGonagall, who was wearing dress robes of red tartan, had arranged a rather ugly wreath of thistles around the brim of her hat. She prompted them to wait on one side of the doors while everyone else went inside.
Arabella was stunned at the sight of Fleur Delacour, who wore a drapery of stunning robes the color of silver and white satin, accompanied by the Ravenclaw Quidditch captain, Roger Davies.
"Arabella!" gasped a voice from only inches behind her, and to her shock, Lyla pushed her way so that she was on her sister's other side, beaming brightly, Draco trailing behind her. Arabella had liked the design of the bottle green gown before, but now that it was on her sister's body, a new emotion crept over.
"Lyla!" she said in shock, gazing intensely at the v-neck of her gown, "what is with that neck cut! Your whole chest is just hanging out—"
"Nonsense!" cut in Lyla, smiling bashfully at Cedric, who smiled politely back. "I think this dress suits me wonderfully, wouldn't you agree, Cedric?"
"I— uh—"
"—And who are you to talk to, anyway?" challenged Lyla, nodding at her sister's exposed chest and collarbone area.
She had a point there.
"You look beautiful, I suppose," said Arabella after a pause.
"You too!" said Lyla, eyes raking her sister's robes with a bright smile of approval. "Who knew Mrs. Weasley would be so great at finding these for us."
Arabella nodded and swiftly turned her gaze onto Draco, who surveyed the sisters silently. When he caught sight of her glare, he raised his hands in surrender.
"What have I done now?" he asked worriedly.
"No funny business, Malfoy," Arabella warned to the annoyance of Lyla, " or I'll hex you into last December. You don't want to be on my hex list…"
"Got it," he said, visibly sweating.
"Only joking," snorted Arabella, slapping her friend playfully on the shoulder.
McGonagall quickly explained that the champions were to enter the Great Hall in procession when the rest of the students had sat down. 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. Arabella could feel Cedric's body heat and smiled nervously at him through her lashes. Tentatively, she slipped one hand into his, wondering in the back of her mind if that was the most brilliant move. She gave it a slight squeeze of reassurance and smiled a bit when the squeeze was returned hesitantly. It appeared she wasn't the only nervous one.
"Her— Hermione?!" gasped Draco abruptly.
"Where?" said Lyla.
"W-w-with Krum!" said Draco with astonishment.
But she didn't look like Hermione at all, at least not the bookish girl Lyla was accustomed to seeing and being friends with. She had done something with her hair; it was no longer bushy but sleek and shiny and twisted 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.
"Hi, Lyla!" she said. "Hi, Draco!"
Many of the passerbyers were shooting her looks of unflattering disbelief, and when the doors to the Great Hall opened, Krum's fan club from the library stalked past, throwing Hermione looks of deepest loathing. Pansy gaped at her as she walked arm and arm with a rugged Durmstrang student. Ron, however, walked right past Hermione without looking at her.
Once everyone else was settled in the Hall, McGonagall told the champions and their partners to get in line in pairs and to follow her. They did so, and everyone in the Great Hall applauded as they entered and started walking up to a large round table at the top of the Hall, where the judges were sitting.
The walls of the Hall had all been covered in sparkling silver frost, with hundreds of garlands of mistletoe and ivy crossing the starry black ceiling. The House tables had vanished; instead, there were about a hundred smaller, lantern-lit ones, each seating about a dozen people.
Lyla did her best not to trip over her own feet, following Draco's steps of ease. She saw Ron and Pavarti, Ron watching Hermione pass with narrowed eyes. Parvati was looking rather sulky.
Dumbledore smiled happily as the champions approached the top table, but Karkaroff wore an expression remarkably like Ron's 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; and Madame Maxime, who had changed her usual uniform of black satin for a flowing gown of lavender silk, was applauding them politely. But Mr. Crouch, Lyla quickly suddenly realized, was not there. Percy Weasley occupied the fifth seat at the table.
When the champions and their partners reached the table, Percy drew out the empty chairs on either side of him, gazing pointedly at Lyla and Arabella. They each took a seat on either side of him. He looked incredibly smug.
"I've been promoted," Percy said before either of the sisters could speak, and from his tone, he might have been announcing his election as supreme ruler of the universe. "I'm now Mr. Crouch's personal assistant and here representing him."
"Is he alright?" asked Arabella wonderingly.
"Why didn't he come?" Lyla said. She wasn't looking forward to being lectured on cauldron bottoms throughout dinner.
"I'm afraid to say Mr. Crouch isn't well, not well at all. Hasn't been right since the World Cup. Hardly surprising— overworked. He's not as young as he was— though still quite brilliant, of course, the mind remains as great as it ever was. But the World Cup was a fiasco for the whole Ministry, and then, Mr. Crouch suffered a huge personal shock with the misbehavior of that house- elf of his, Blinky, or whatever she was called. Naturally, he dismissed her immediately afterward, but - well, as I say, he's getting on, he needs looking after, and I think he's found a definite drop in his home comforts since she left. And then we had the tournament to arrange and the aftermath of the Cup to deal with - that revolting Skeeter woman buzzing around - no, poor man, he's having a well-earned, quiet Christmas. I'm just glad he knew he had someone to rely on to take his place."
Lyla wanted very much to ask whether Mr. Crouch had stopped calling Percy "Weatherby" yet but resisted the temptation.
There was no food yet on the glittering golden plates, but small menus were in front of each of them. Draco picked his up uncertainly and looked around, frowning.
"There are no waiters," he observed, frown deepening.
Dumbledore, however, looked carefully down at his own menu, then said very clearly to his plate, "Pork chops!"
And pork chops appeared. Getting the idea, the rest of the table placed their orders with their plates too. Lyla glanced up at Hermione to see how she felt about this new and more complicated method of dining— surely it meant plenty of extra work for the house- elves—? But for once, her friend didn't seem to be thinking about S.P.E.W. She was deep in talk with Viktor Krum and hardly seemed to notice what she was eating.
It now occurred to Lyla that she had never heard Krum speak before, but he was certainly talking now and very enthusiastically at that.
"Veil, ve have a castle also, not as big as this, nor as comfortable, I am thinking," he was saying. "Ve have just four floors, and the fires are lit only for magical purposes. But ve have grounds larger even than these - though in vinter, ve have very little daylight, so ve are not enjoying them. But in summer, ve are flying every day, over the lakes and the mountains -"
"Now, now, Viktor!" said Karkaroff with a laugh that didn't reach his cold eyes, "don't go giving away anything else, now, or your charming friend will know exactly where to find us!"
Dumbledore smiled, his eyes twinkling. "Igor, all this secrecy, one would almost think you didn't want visitors."
"Well," said Karkaroff, displaying his yellowing teeth to their fullest extent, "we are all protective of our private domains, are we not? Do we not jealously guard the halls of learning that have been entrusted to us? Are we not right to be proud that we alone know our school's secrets and right to protect them?"
"Oh, I would never dream of assuming I know all Hogwarts' secrets, Igor," said Dumbledore amicably. "Only this morning, for instance, I took a wrong turn on the way to the bathroom and found myself in a beautifully proportioned room I have never seen before, containing a really rather magnificent collection of chamber pots. When I investigated more closely, I discovered that the room had vanished. But I must keep an eye out for it. Possibly it is only accessible at five-thirty in the morning. Or it may only appear at the quarter moon - or when the seeker has an exceptionally full bladder."
Lyla and Draco snorted into their plate of goulash. Percy frowned but could have sworn Dumbledore had given her a tiny wink.
Meanwhile, Fleur was criticizing the Hogwarts decorations to Roger Davies.
"Zis is nothing," she said dismissively, looking around at the sparkling walls of the Great Hall. "At ze Palace of Beauxbatons, we 'ave ice sculptures all around ze dining chamber at Chreestmas. Zey do not melt, of course...zey are like 'uge statues of diamond, glittering around ze place. And ze food is seemply superb. And we 'ave choirs of wood nymphs, 'oo serenade us as we eat. We 'ave none of zis ugly armor in ze 'alls, and eef a poltergeist ever entered into Beauxbatons, 'e would be expelled like zat." She slapped her hand on to the table impatiently.
Roger Davies watched her talk with a dazed look on his face, missing his mouth with his fork repeatedly. Lyla thought Davies was too busy staring at Fleur to take in a word she was saying.
"Absolutely right," he said quickly, slapping his own hand down on the table in imitation of Fleur. "Like that. Yeah."
"Idiot," coughed Draco snarkily.
Lyla looked around the Hall. Hagrid was sitting at one of the other staff tables; he was back in his horrible hairy brown suit and gazing up at the top table. She saw him give a small wave and, looking around, saw Madame Maxime return it, her opals glittering in the candlelight.
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