The long-awaited first task of the Triwizard Tournament finally drew to a thrilling close. Fireworks erupted overhead in final celebration, spreading across the sky and twisting into eagles, lions, badgers, and snakes that hovered above the roaring stands.
The four animal forms circled and danced in the air, creating an exceptionally spectacular scene. Cheers, applause, and the crackling of fireworks intertwined, and the entire arena seemed to transform into an ocean of joy.
By all accounts, the tournament was already shaping up to be a classic, filled with moments that would linger in the annals of magic for years to come.
The victory in the first task set a perfect start for Hogwarts, with the school claiming the highest total score of the three and their champion securing the top individual score as well. They could not have been happier. But that did not mean they could take things easy, as the next challenges still awaited them.
---
After Ron's embarrassing little stunt with the golden egg, the champions and their sidekicks began making their way back to the castle. The day had been thrilling, but it left them all exhausted, both physically and mentally.
Meanwhile, Ministry personnel began clearing the sea of spectators. By sunset, the stadium that had once been packed to the brim was completely empty.
Mavrick returned to the castle as well, leaving a begrudging Flitwick behind with the remaining work, and headed straight for his office. He passed the Great Hall in the middle of a frenzy, full of celebrations, singing, and the sharp crackle of exploding crackers. It was the last place he wanted to be.
Isabella was still tied up with the programs and would likely be so until late into the night, giving him a little space to breathe on his own. Anyways, she was not going anywhere, at least not before the winter break, and would be staying with him at the castle.
"Hmm… should I surprise her with a romantic dinner?" he wondered aloud with a smile, changing course and heading to the kitchens to have a word with the little guys there.
Time passed little by little. The mild weather during the competition did not last, and by the second day, fierce winds swept in with howling rain and snow.
For several days, the weather refused to clear. The young witches and wizards could only remain in various corners of the castle, venting their lingering excitement from the tournament in different ways.
The adults also understood that the students needed time to settle after the excitement. Therefore, with the exception of the fifth-year and seventh-year students, who were in their OWL and NEWT years and whose demands were still in force, the workload for the other grades was significantly reduced.
When December arrived, it brought with it even fiercer howling winds and blizzards that seemed to blanket Hogwarts Castle, making it resemble a small creature braving a frozen desert.
In the strong winds, the Durmstrang ship anchored in the Black Lake kept swaying, making people wonder whether it might sink to the bottom during the night. Thankfully, unlike in the original story, the delegations of the two schools were staying inside the castle, where the thick walls and roaring fireplaces of Hogwarts blocked the biting drafts that came with winter.
Although a week had passed, the impact of the first event of the Triwizard Tournament still had not yet subsided. Magical newspapers across Europe, and even across the globe, had been headlining it for days, praising its success, from the financial gains of the organizers to the magical prowess of the young wizards from the participating schools.
It was clear why the three schools were considered among the most prestigious, rich in history and respected throughout the magical world. No mage apprentice, even in a team of three, should have been able to outwit, let alone defeat, an adult dragon. And yet, the students of these schools proved that their education operated on a completely different level, producing exceptional talents time and again.
Because of this, the tournament would bring more than just immense gold to the three schools. It would also attract even more talented applicants. The change might not be obvious right away, yet in the years to come, applications were bound to rise. After all, what parent would not want the finest education for their child?
That, however, was a concern for another time. In contrast to the chaos stirred up by the tournament and the emotional highs and lows of the young witches and wizards, Mavrick's past few days had been fairly calm.
Apart from his classes, he spent most of his free time with his fiancée inside the castle, earning them many lingering glances. They did not pretend otherwise than being a couple, but they never behaved improperly before the students. Still, the sight of a young, powerful, handsome man with an equally gorgeous woman invited envy without fail. That was only natural.
In truth, after the event concluded there was no real need for Isabella to remain, but a very special day was approaching. At his request, she stayed with him, assisting him during classes, more or less like an assistant, until the winter holidays arrived.
Dumbledore, for his part, was more than pleased to let her assist Mavrick and even extended an offer for an official assistant professor position. She turned it down, of course. Isabella Garling, daughter of Edward Garling, knew far too well what kind of pyramid schemer the famed wise old wizard truly was.
---
Like any major event, the buzz surrounding the recently concluded first task of the Triwizard Tournament, which had dominated the headlines for a fortnight, slowly began to fade. In its place, a growing sense of anticipation for the approaching Christmas holidays took root in the hearts and minds of the young wizards.
Winter was in full force, with snow falling almost every day and the world outside buried beneath white. On the morning of the first weekend of December, Mavrick and Isabella sat down for breakfast with the rest of the castle in the Great Hall, where Professor McGonagall announced the Yule Ball to everyone.
"The Yule Ball is a tradition of the Triwizard Tournament and an important part of its spirit. It provides us with an opportunity to strengthen relations and encourage goodwill with our foreign guests. All students are eligible to attend, and senior students may, if they choose, invite students from the lower years as partners as well."
The students' whispers gradually swelled into excited chatter, but the stern professor ignored the commotion and continued. "The ball will be held at eight o'clock on Christmas night in the Great Hall and will conclude promptly at twelve. All participating students are required to wear formal dress robes. Further details will be posted on the bulletin board by the end of today, so kindly see to it yourselves."
"The champions," Professor McGonagall said, her gaze sweeping across the sea of students before briefly settling on the six scattered figures, "the Yule Ball is especially dedicated to you. So please ensure that you secure a partner within the next two weeks."
At the Gryffindor table, Harry stared at Professor McGonagall in a daze, an inexplicable wave of overwhelm washing over him at the sudden announcement. Dance? What dance? Did he even know how to dance? he wondered. When Professor McGonagall's gaze briefly flicked in his direction, it felt as though the final words had been meant for him alone.
He was not a romantic, after all. That said, he was not a piece of wood either. He liked girls, and from time to time, he found himself glancing a little longer than usual. Hermione, his best friend, or the Beauxbatons blonde came to mind. It was nothing serious, just impulse, maybe admiration, maybe simple appreciation. At least, that was what he told himself.
But he was not like most boys his age, and neither was his best friend Ron, who would gossip about girls in their free time.
And now he was expected to invite a girl to the Yule Ball. He hardly spoke to any girls besides Hermione. No, that was not right. There was Jean, Ginny, and Fleur as well. He paused, wondering if he was thinking too much about it.
Shaking his head, he glanced around, only to meet Hermione's eyes as she looked directly at him, and he did not know what came over him before he found himself lowering his gaze.
What's happening? he thought, a rush of inexplicable feelings he had never known before stirring inside him.
He turned, only to meet Ginny's eyes this time, and she was looking at him just the same. Merlin's sagging beard, he nearly said aloud. Before he realized it, his gaze dropped again.
The next moment he raised his head, and at the adjacent long table he met Fleur's eyes. Again, she was also looking at him as if he were a piece of meat. His heart began to race without him noticing.
"Mate, are you okay?" Ron nudged him from the side, noticing his odd behavior.
"Uh… I'm fine, Ron. Just thinking, that's all."
"Oh? Do you?" Ron teased. "Got a girl in mind already?"
"A what?" Harry blurted out.
Professor McGonagall's announcement hit like a bomb, blowing apart the already lively atmosphere of Hogwarts Castle and sending emotions soaring once again. Christmas ball. Partners. Relationships.
The words alone were enough to stir the teenagers, some already whispering urgently among themselves while others stole quiet glances at their secret crushes.
The bolder ones were already plotting dramatic invitations, hoping to make their approach unforgettable. Those with shyer personalities grew uneasy, struggling just to think of the first sentence to say. Even the first-year witches and wizards shared in the same eager excitement.
It could be said that Professor McGonagall's announcement not only made the ancient castle more lively, but also set the entire Christmas season ablaze with anticipation.
"I take it this was the real reason you asked me to stay behind?"
Isabella took a slow sip from her goblet at the staff table, then glanced sideways at Mavrick, a faint smile tugging at her lips as McGonagall wrapped up her explanation.
"Was it so those little witches would not pester you to be their partner?" she teased, leaning slightly closer. "Having me here makes the perfect shield. You know, I have seen the almost fanatical looks some of them have been giving you."
"Guilty," Mavrick chuckled. She was not wrong. He was still young, barely into his twenties. Though he showed no reaction on the surface, he knew of more than a few senior witches who were obsessed with him, teenage hormones and all. The only reason they had not approached him was because he was, well, him.
"Would you rather have me dance with someone else?" he asked back, smiling.
"I would not mind. It is only a dance," Isabella said, feigning a shrug.
"Is it? Then may I steal your man as my dancing partner, little Garling?"
The voice came from beside them, and Mavrick nearly choked on his drink. He and Isabella both turned to see Olympe Maxime smirking, her brow arched provocatively, particularly in Isabella's direction.
"I meant a student," Isabella answered almost defensively, the words escaping before she could think them through.
Olympe chuckled aloud. "Look at you, all flustered and on edge." She laughed again. "Girl, you have no idea how much competition you are going to face in the future. And do you truly expect a man like him to settle for just one?"
"I am sitting right here," Mavrick rolled his eyes, then turned to Isabella and placed his hand over hers. "Do not listen to that stupid woman."
Puff. Cough, cough.
Suddenly, Flitwick began tapping his chest, seemingly having swallowed a mouthful of drink the wrong way. He cast Mavrick an admiring glance and took a deep breath. Merlin's beard, that was bold, he thought. Only Mavrick would dare call an archmage like her a stupid woman. Naturally, he kept it to himself and simply apologized, claiming he had drunk too fast.
Professor McGonagall's announcement brought breakfast to a close, and a renewed frenzy of excitement spread through the castle.
---
A week ago, if one were to ask him, Harry would have confidently said that asking a girl for a dance was nothing compared to taking on a Hungarian Horntail. Right? Logically, that was absolutely correct.
But now that the dragon was behind him and the ball lay ahead, the prospect of asking a girl felt far more frightening, and he found himself wishing he were back in the arena instead.
Everyone was obsessed with the coming ball, or at least all the girls were, and it was amazing how many girls Hogwarts suddenly seemed to hold, he had never quite noticed that before.
Girls giggling and whispering in the corridors, girls shrieking with laughter as boys passed them, girls excitedly comparing notes on what they were going to wear on Christmas night.
"Why do they always travel in packs?" Harry muttered to Ron as a group of girls passed by, giggling and openly staring at him. "How're you supposed to get one on their own to ask them?"
"Oh?" Ron said, blinking in surprise. "So you have someone in mind already? Who are you thinking of?"
Beside them, Hermione walked quietly, clutching her books to her chest. Though she appeared distracted, her ears were wide open, catching every word he said.
What's wrong with me… she thought. Do I really…? She gave a brief sideways glance then quickly shook her head. No, Harry's my best friend. Friend! She had never thought of him as anything other than… She tried to convince herself but realised it wasn't working at all.
Harry did not answer Ron immediately and looked ahead thoughtfully as they turned a corner and walked on. To be honest, now that he thought about it, it was not that he could not think of someone to ask. He could think of more than one, and that was the problem. Moreover, choosing was one thing, but working up the nerve was another entirely. He sighed.
Hermione was one. He gulped and didn't dare look sideways. There was Ginny too, though younger than him by a year. She was pretty, but… he didn't know how he felt about her. Friend? Of course friend. Did he want more? He didn't know for sure. There was Fleur too. Merlin… Why couldn't there be a spell to just let him choose.
There was also Cho Chang, a friend from the school Quidditch team. She was a year older than him, very pretty, a talented Quidditch player, and… pretty. He paused. Right. He had already thought about that. Anyway, she was popular too.
Ron, looking at his buddy's expression, thought he understood what was going on inside Harry's head.
"Listen, mate, I know what you're thinking. You're not going to have any trouble. You're a champion. You've just beaten a Hungarian Horntail. I bet they'll be queuing up to go with you."
"It's 'we', Ron. We beat the Hungarian Horntail, the three of us. And I'm not thinking that girls will be queuing up to invite me, for your information."
But to Harry's bewildered amazement, everything Ron said turned out to be quite right.
A curly-haired third-year Hufflepuff girl to whom Harry had never spoken in his life asked him to go to the ball with her the very next day. Harry was so taken aback he said no before he'd even stopped to consider the matter.
The following day, five more girls asked him—there was a second-year and, to his horror, a fifth-year who looked as though she might knock him out if he refused.
"She was quite good-looking," said Ron fairly, after he'd stopped laughing with half a chicken leg inside his mouth.
"She was a whole head taller than me," said Harry, still unnerved, putting his goblet down. "Imagine what I'd look like trying to dance with her."
Bang.
The two were suddenly taken aback at the sound of something slamming on the long table near them. They turned, and saw Hermione giving them both an unreadable glare.
These past few days, despite being with them most of the time, she had been rather quiet, but what frustrated her most was that these two morons hadn't realised it one bit.
At first, because of the Yule Ball thing and the thought of whether Harry would ask her or not, she had felt anxious, but she had moved on from it. She had accepted that she probably, well, very likely, had developed a crush on her friend which she hadn't been aware of until Professor McGonagall made the announcement that day.
And whether she admitted it to herself or not, she had been waiting for Harry to ask her. She had even turned down a few boys, telling them she already had a partner.
But almost a week had passed. Harry hadn't shown any sign of asking her, and to make matters worse, these two blockheads had been discussing other girls with her right there all this time. To make matters even worse, whenever the subject of partners came up, which was most of their conversation, they for some reason seemed to have forgotten all about her, as if she wasn't even there. It was pissing her off.
"If you two want to ask someone, just do it already," she said with a huff and got up from her seat, yanking her school bag. "Oh, and just so you know," she added before walking away, "Ginny and Jean have already found partners. So you'd better hurry up or you'll run out of girls." And with that, she left.
A moment later, a bewildered Ron blinked. "Blimey… what the bloody hell's wrong with her—" he said absentmindedly, then suddenly realised. "Wait… did she say my sister found a partner? Which bastard is it? Hermione, wait!"
"Ron, stop shouting and just sit down, for Merlin's sake. Everyone's looking at us."
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