THC/The Houses Competition.

House: Gryffindor

Class: Charms

Prompt: [Colour] Purple

Category: Round 4 Drabble

Word count: 933

Harriet will always remember the night, the night when she leaned that all she was, was the Girl-Who-Lived

Reminder of Tonight

Hogwarts. It was truly the most wonderful, remarkable, magnificent and inspiring place Harriet had ever known. She considered it to be her home. The sense of joy she felt when she entered the Great Hall for the first time every year was simply magical but tonight was more special than any other, for tonight was the Yule Ball.

When Professor McGonagall mentioned that there was going to be a dance, Harriet figured she wouldn't be attending. That time should have been allocated to spending the night in her common room as she worried about what the next task would bring her. However, when a student from the Durmstrang Institute asked her to the Ball, Harriet immediately said yes, as a smile spread across her face and her heart skipped a beat.

Snow was falling thickly upon the castle and grounds. The pale blue Beauxbatons carriage now resembled a large, chilly, frosted pumpkin.

Harriet stood in front of the giant mirror that hung in the girls dorm as she got ready for the Yule Ball. Her dress was a vibrant purple, strapless and ended just above the knees in front. Silver sequins hugged her waist, falling to form flowers. Harriet twirled watching the sequins brightly simmer, and sheer layers kissed the back of her legs, like amethyst flames dancing from her thighs to her ankles. The dress followed every curve of her body, from the sweetheart neckline to the jewel lined bodice.

She could remember when she had first tried the dress on. It had made her feel confident and beautiful for the first time ever. It was no secret that she had always been self-conscious about her body, but this dress made it all go away.

The purple dress allowered her green eyes to pop, sparkle even.

Harriet strapped her shoes on, the heels (carefully chosen) matched her dress, and made her way out of the common room.

She could feel her palms sweat as she made her way down the stairs. Her thoughts consumed about how tonight might go ran a loop through her mind. Tonight, she was just like any other girl going to a dance, and that thought made her giddy. She wasn't going to care if her hair didn't cover up her scar, because tonight she wasn't the Girl-Who-Lived.

Once she entered the Great Hall, Harriet couldn't help but gasp at the magical sight. The walls of the Hall had been covered in sparkling silver frost that matched her dress with hundreds of garlands of mistletoe hanging from the starry night sky that shone down on the Great Hall. Gone were the house tables and, in their place, were hundreds of smaller, lantern-lit ones.

Harriet found her date at the punch bowl and made her way over to him, stopping when she heard him talk to his friend.

"Honestly, I wouldn't touch her with a ten-foot pole, but her fame's enough to force me into the spotlight," Harriet overheard her date say.

She felt as if someone had just plunged a knife into her chest. After defending him over and over to Ron, it turned out Ron was right; the only reason the Durmstrang boy had asked her out was for her fame.

"At least that ass is something to look at and those legs."

"Almost makes up for the lack of brains. I don't think anything is going on in that head of hers. She actually got offended when I told her that Durmstrang Institute doesn't accept muggle-borns, the mudblood-lover." He spat the last bit. "I'm telling you, once this night is over, I'm ending it."

"At least make sure you guys are in the papers tomorrow — you don't want to go through all of this for nothing."

"Of course, then I'm dumping her ass. I can't take it anymore. I can't take looking at her any longer, listening to her stories. The world would have been better off if You-Know-Who had killed her. He would have saved everyone the pain of knowing her."

Harriet couldn't take listening to the two talk anymore. She ran out of the Great Hall and back up to the girl's common room. She was glad that no one had seen her crying on the way back. The last thing she needed was for her humiliation to be in the papers tomorrow morning.

She brought her hand up to clear away her tears, smearing her mascara in the process before taking out the bobby pins in her hair, allowing it to fall to her shoulder. She should have known better; she should have known that no one would want to go out with her. All they wanted was the Girl-Who-Lived, but Harriet was nothing.

Unable to keep looking at herself in the large mirror, she stood up and took off her dress before throwing it in the trash can next to her bed. She should have never gotten her hopes up for tonight, she should have known, nothing ever good happens to her, not without a price. Letting out a small sob, she placed her sweats on before grabbing her wand off the bedside table where she left it.

"Incendio," Harriet spoke as she pointed her wand at the dress, watching as purple flames filled the trash can and her dress—and a symbol of her temporary joy—burned to ash.

The colour purple, once her favorite colour, a color that was royal, courageous, hopeful, fearless, but now only held heartbreak, defeat, failure. The colour purple would always be a reminder of tonight, a reminder how she was nothing but the Girl Who Lived.