The Yule Ball
Despite the very heavy load of homework that the fourth-years had been given for the holidays, Harry was in no mood to work when term ended, and spent the week leading up to Christmas enjoying himself as fully as possible along with everyone else. Gryffindor Tower was hardly less crowded now than during term-time; it seemed to have shrunk slightly, too, as its inhabitants were being so much rowdier than usual. Fred and George had had a great success with their Canary Creams, and for the first couple of days of the holidays, people kept bursting into feather all over the place. Before long, however, all the Gryffindors had learnt to treat food anybody else offered them with extreme caution, in case it had a Canary Cream concealed in the centre, and George confided to Harry that he and Fred were now working on developing something else. Harry made a mental note never to accept so much as a crisp from Fred and George in future. He still hadn’t forgotten Dudley and the Ton-Tongue Toffee.
Snow was falling thickly upon the castle and its grounds now. The pale blue Beauxbatons carriage looked like a large, chilly, frosted pumpkin next to the iced gingerbread house that was Hagrid’s cabin, while the Durmstrang ship’s portholes were glazed with ice, the rigging white with frost. The house-elves down in the kitchen were outdoing themselves with a series of rich, warming stews and savoury puddings, and only Fleur Delacour seemed to be able to find anything to complain about.
‘It is too ’eavy, all zis ’Ogwarts food,’ they heard her saying grumpily, as they left the Great Hall behind her one evening (Ron skulking behind Harry, keen not to be spotted by Fleur). ‘I will not fit into my dress robes!’
‘Oooh, there’s a tragedy,’ said Hermione snappily, as Fleur went out into the Entrance Hall. ‘She really thinks a lot of herself, that one, doesn’t she?’
‘Hermione – who are you going to the ball with?’ said Ron.
He kept springing this question on her, hoping to startle her into a response by asking it when she least expected it. However, Hermione merely frowned and said, ‘I’m not telling you, you’ll just make fun of me.’
‘You’re joking, Weasley?’ said Malfoy, behind them. ‘You’re not telling me someone’s asked that to the ball? Not the long-molared Mudblood?’
Harry and Ron both whipped around, but Hermione said loudly, waving to somebody over Malfoy’s shoulder, ‘Hello, Professor Moody!’
Malfoy went pale and jumped backwards, looking wildly around for Moody, but he was still up at the staff table, finishing his stew.
‘Twitchy little ferret, aren’t you, Malfoy?’ said Hermione scathingly, and she, Harry and Ron went up the marble staircase laughing heartily.
‘Hermione,’ said Ron, looking sideways at her, suddenly frowning, ‘your teeth …’
‘What about them?’ she said.
‘Well, they’re different … I’ve just noticed …’
‘Of course they are – did you expect me to keep those fangs Malfoy gave me?’
‘No, I mean, they’re different to how they were before he put that hex on you … they’re all … straight and – and normal sized.’
Hermione suddenly smiled very mischievously, and Harry noticed it too: it was a very different smile to the one he remembered.
‘Well … when I went up to Madam Pomfrey to get them shrunk, she held up a mirror, and told me to stop her when they were back to how they normally were,’ she said. ‘And I just … let her carry on a bit.’ She smiled even more widely. ‘Mum and Dad won’t be too pleased. I’ve been trying to persuade them to let me shrink them for ages, but they wanted me to carry on with my brace. You know, they’re dentists, they just don’t think teeth and magic should – look! Pigwidgeon’s back!’
Ron’s tiny owl was twittering madly on the top of the icicle-laden banisters, a scroll of parchment tied to his leg. People passing him were pointing and laughing, 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, hurrying up the stairs and snatching Pigwidgeon up. ‘You bring letters straight 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, Harry,’ Ron added in an undertone, as the third-year girls scuttled away looking scandalised. He pulled Sirius’ reply off Pigwidgeon’s leg, Harry pocketed it, and they hurried back to Gryffindor Tower to read it.
Everyone in the common room was much too busy letting off more holiday steam to observe what anyone else was up to. Harry, Ron and Hermione sat apart from everyone else by a dark window that was gradually filling up with snow, and Harry read out:
Dear Harry,
Congratulations on getting past the Horntail, whoever put your name in that Goblet shouldn’t be feeling too happy right now! I was going to suggest a Conjunctivitis curse, as a dragon’s eyes are its weakest point –
‘That’s what Krum did!’ Hermione whispered.
– but your way was better, I’m impressed.
Don’t get complacent, though, Harry. 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 – particularly when the person we discussed is around – and concentrate on keeping yourself out of trouble.
Keep in touch, I still want to hear about anything unusual.
Sirius
‘He sounds exactly like Moody,’ said Harry quietly, tucking the letter away again inside his robes, ‘“Constant vigilance!” You’d think I walk around with my eyes shut, banging off the walls …’
‘But he’s right, Harry,’ said Hermione, ‘you have still got two tasks to do. You really ought to have a look at that egg, you know, and start working out what it means …’
‘Hermione, he’s got ages!’ snapped Ron. ‘Want a game of chess, Harry?’
‘Yeah, OK,’ said Harry. Then, spotting the look on Hermione’s face, he said, ‘Come on, how’m I supposed to concentrate with all this noise going on? I won’t even be able to hear the egg over this lot.’
‘Oh, I suppose not,’ she sighed, and she sat down to watch their chess match, which culminated in an exciting checkmate of Ron’s, involving a couple of recklessly brave pawns and a very violent bishop.
*
Harry awoke very suddenly on Christmas Day. Wondering what had caused his abrupt return to consciousness, he opened his eyes, and saw something with very large, round, green eyes staring back at him in the darkness, so close they were almost nose to nose.
‘Dobby!’ Harry yelled, scrambling away from the elf so fast he almost fell out of bed. ‘Don’t do that!’
‘Dobby is sorry, sir!’ squeaked Dobby anxiously, jumping backwards with his long fingers over his mouth. ‘Dobby is only wanting to wish Harry Potter “Merry Christmas” and bring him a present, sir! Harry Potter did say Dobby could come and see him sometimes, sir!’
‘It’s OK,’ said Harry, still breathing rather faster than usual, while his heart rate returned to normal. ‘Just – just prod me or something in future, all right, don’t bend over me like that …’
Harry pulled back the hangings around his four-poster, took his glasses from his bedside table and put them on. His yell had awoken Ron, Seamus, Dean and Neville. All of them were peering through the gaps in their own hangings, heavy eyed and tousle haired.
‘Someone attacking you, Harry?’ Seamus asked sleepily.
‘No, it’s just Dobby,’ Harry muttered. ‘Go back to sleep.’
‘Nah … presents!’ said Seamus, spotting the large pile at the foot of his bed. Ron, Dean and Neville decided that now they were awake they might as well get down to some present-opening, too. Harry turned back to Dobby, who was now standing nervously next to Harry’s bed, still looking worried that he had upset Ha
rry. There was a Christmas bauble tied to the loop on top of his tea-cosy.
‘Can Dobby give Harry Potter his present?’ he squeaked tentatively.
‘’Course you can,’ said Harry. ‘Er … I’ve got something for you, too.’
It was a lie; he hadn’t bought anything for Dobby at all, but he quickly opened his trunk, and pulled out a particularly knobbly rolled-up pair of socks. They were his oldest and foulest, mustard yellow, and had once belonged to Uncle Vernon. The reason they were extra knobbly was that Harry had been using them to cushion his Sneakoscope for over a year now. He pulled out the Sneakoscope and handed the socks to Dobby, saying, ‘Sorry, I forgot to wrap them …’
But Dobby was utterly delighted.
‘Socks are Dobby’s favourite, favourite clothes, sir!’ he said, ripping off his odd ones and pulling on Uncle Vernon’s. ‘I has seven now, sir … but, sir …’ he said, his eyes widening, having pulled both socks up to their highest extent, so that they reached to the bottom of his shorts, ‘they has made a mistake in the shop, Harry Potter, they is giving you two the same!’
‘Ah, no, Harry, how come you didn’t spot that!’ said Ron, grinning over from his own bed, which was now strewn with wrapping paper. ‘Tell you what, Dobby – here you go – take these two, and you can mix them up properly. And here’s your jumper.’
He threw Dobby a pair of violet socks he had just unwrapped, and the hand-knitted sweater Mrs Weasley had sent.
Dobby looked quite overwhelmed. ‘Sir is very kind!’ he squeaked, his eyes brimming with tears again, bowing deeply to Ron. ‘Dobby knew sir must be a great wizard, for he is Harry Potter’s greatest friend, but Dobby did not know that he was also as generous of spirit, as noble, as selfless –’
‘They’re only socks,’ said Ron, who had gone slightly pink around the ears, though looking rather pleased all the same. ‘Wow, Harry –’ he had just opened Harry’s present, a Chudley Cannon hat. ‘Cool!’ He jammed it onto his head, where it clashed horribly with his hair.
Dobby now handed Harry a small package, which turned out to be – socks.
‘Dobby is making them himself, sir!’ the elf said happily. ‘He is buying the wool out of his wages, sir!’
The left sock was bright red, and had a pattern of broomsticks upon it; the right sock was green, with a pattern of Snitches.
‘They’re … they’re really … well, thanks, Dobby,’ said Harry, and he pulled them on, causing Dobby’s eyes to leak with happiness again.
‘Dobby must go now, sir, we is already making Christmas dinner in the kitchens!’ said Dobby, and he hurried out of the dormitory, waving goodbye to Ron and the others as he passed.
Harry’s other presents were much more satisfactory than Dobby’s odd socks – with the obvious exception of the Dursleys’, which consisted of a single tissue, an all-time low – Harry supposed they, too, were remembering the Ton-Tongue Toffee. Hermione had given Harry a book called Quidditch Teams of Britain and Ireland; Ron, a bulging bag of Dungbombs; Sirius, a handy penknife with attachments to unlock any lock and undo any knot; and Hagrid, a vast box of sweets including all Harry’s favourites – Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans, Chocolate Frogs, Drooble’s Best Blowing Gum and Fizzing Whizzbees. There was also, of course, Mrs Weasley’s usual package, including a new jumper (green, with a picture of a dragon on it – Harry supposed Charlie had told her all about the Horntail) and a large quantity of home-made mince pies.
Harry and Ron met up with Hermione in the common room, and they went down to breakfast together. They spent most of the morning in Gryffindor Tower, where everyone was enjoying their 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 Cribbages Wizarding Crackers.
They went out into 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 Harry and the Weasleys’ snowball fight rather than join in, and at five o’clock said she was going back upstairs to get ready for the ball.
‘What, you need three hours?’ said Ron, looking at her 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 her picture.
‘Lairy fights, that’s the one!’ she giggled when they gave the password, and she swung forwards to let them inside.
Harry, Ron, Seamus, Dean and Neville changed into their dress robes up in their dormitory, all of them looking very self-conscious, but none as much as Ron, who surveyed himself in the long mirror in the corner with an appalled look on his face. There was just no getting around the fact that his robes looked more like a dress than anything else. In a desperate attempt to make them look more manly, he used a Severing Charm on the ruff and cuffs. It worked fairly well; at least he was now lace-free, although he hadn’t done a very neat job, and the edges still looked depressingly frayed as they set off downstairs.
‘I still can’t work out how you two got the best-looking girls in the year,’ muttered Dean.
‘Animal magnetism,’ said Ron gloomily, pulling stray threads out of his cuffs.
The common room looked strange, full of people wearing different colours instead of the usual mass of black. Parvati was waiting for Harry at the foot of the stairs. She looked very pretty indeed, in robes of shocking pink, with her long dark plait braided with gold, and gold bracelets glimmering at her wrists. Harry was relieved to see that she wasn’t giggling.
‘You – er – look nice,’ he said awkwardly.
‘Thanks,’ she said. ‘Padma’s going to meet you in the Entrance Hall,’ she added to Ron.
‘Right,’ said Ron, looking around. ‘Where’s Hermione?’
Parvati shrugged. ‘Shall we go down, then, Harry?’
‘OK,’ said Harry, wishing he could just stay in the common room. Fred winked at Harry as he passed him on the way out of the portrait hole.
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 each other. Parvati found her sister Padma and led her over to Harry and Ron.
‘Hi,’ said Padma, who was looking just as pretty as Parvati in robes of bright turquoise. She didn’t look too enthusiastic about having Ron as a partner, though; her dark eyes lingered on the frayed neck and sleeves of his dress robes as she looked him up and down.
‘Hi,’ said Ron, not looking at her, but staring around at the crowd. ‘Oh, no …’
He bent his knees slightly to hide behind Harry, because Fleur Delacour was passing, looking stunning in robes of silver-grey satin, and accompanied by the Ravenclaw Quidditch captain, Roger Davies. When they had disappeared, Ron stood straight again and stared over the heads of the crowd.
‘Where is Hermione?’ he said again.
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 Harry’s opinion made him look like a vicar. Pansy Parkinson was clutching Malfoy’s arm, in very frilly robes of pale pink. Crabbe and Goyle were both wearing green; they resembled moss-coloured boulders, and neither of them, Harry 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 Karkar
off. Krum was at the front of the party, accompanied by a pretty girl in blue robes Harry didn’t know. 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 – meaning hundreds of actual living fairies were sitting in the rose bushes 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!’
Parvati readjusted her bangles, beaming; she and Harry said ‘See you in a minute’ to Ron and Padma, and walked forwards, the chattering crowd parting to let them through. 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, told them to wait on one side of the doors while everyone else went inside; they 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. Cedric and Cho were close to Harry, too; he looked away from them so he wouldn’t have to talk to them. His eyes fell instead on the girl next to Krum. His jaw dropped.
It was Hermione.
But she didn’t look like Hermione at all. 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 – rather nervously, it was true – but the reduction in the size of her front teeth was more noticeable than ever. Harry couldn’t understand how he hadn’t spotted it before.
‘Hi, Harry!’ she said. ‘Hi, Parvati!’
Parvati was gazing at Hermione in unflattering disbelief. She wasn’t the only one, either; when the doors to the Great Hall opened, Krum’s fan club from the library stalked past, throwing Hermione looks of deepest loathing. Pansy Parkinson gaped at her as she walked by with Malfoy, and even he didn’t seem to be able to find an insult to throw at her. Ron, however, walked right past Hermione without looking at her.
The Goblet of Fire Page 35