(Gilderoy Lockhart)
I arrived just in time to witness the beginning of the spectacle.
And I had to say...
My teachings had not been wasted.
Ronald Weasley looked presentable, and not merely presentable, but respectable.
His uniform was immaculate, every button properly fastened and every crease exactly where it should be. His hair had clearly been tamed for the occasion and caught the torchlight in just the right way. Even his posture was improved.
More importantly, his walk projected confidence without crossing into arrogance.
Which is a difficult balance.
One I had personally taught him.
I couldn't help but feel a swell of pride.
Truly, watching one's students grow was among the greatest rewards of teaching.
From my concealed position around the corner, I observed as Ron intercepted Fleur Delacour on her way toward the Great Hall.
The French champion slowed to a stop, looking mildly surprised.
Excellent.
Step one: secure the target's attention.
So far, so good.
Ron offered her a brilliant smile and smoothly produced a bouquet of roses from behind his back.
I nodded approvingly, the flowers were a nice touch.
Not too large or too expensive.
Just enough to show effort without appearing desperate.
"Miss Delacour," Ron said, "please accept this small token of my appreciation. I apologise if they don't do your beauty justice, but even the most expensive flowers would fall short in front of your radiance."
Ah.
One of my lines.
A classic.
Timeless.
Elegant.
The slight tremor in the hand holding the bouquet betrayed just how nervous he actually was, but he maintained eye contact exactly as instructed.
This is very important.
Many men made the mistake of staring at their shoes when speaking to beautiful women.
Ron was looking directly into Fleur's eyes despite how nervous he must be feeling.
Fleur smiled and accepted the flowers.
"Merci, Monsieur...?"
"Weasley," Ron supplied quickly. "Ronald Weasley."
"Monsieur Weasley," Fleur repeated pleasantly.
She glanced down at the roses.
"Thankz for ze flowers. Zey are beautiful."
Ron visibly brightened.
Then Fleur continued.
"Now, if you excuse me, I was on my way to dinner."
Ah.
The dismissal.
A critical moment.
Many young men would have panicked.
Some would have frozen.
Others would have attempted to retreat.
But fortunately, Ronald Weasley had received professional instruction.
Realising the opportunity was slipping away, he gathered his courage and pressed forward.
"Wait!"
Fleur paused politely.
Ron swallowed nervously, then went for it.
"I was wondering if you would do me the honour of going to the Yule Ball with me?"
And there it was.
The invitation.
He even finished with one of my trademark smiles.
Not perfect, naturally, since no one could truly replicate my greatness.
But it was a respectable effort.
Fleur blinked in surprise, then let out a cute giggle.
"Are you trying to imitate Professor Lockhart?"
Ron grinned sheepishly. "He taught me himself."
I couldn't help but puff my chest out slightly.
Excellent answer.
"Did it work?" Ron asked hopefully.
Fleur laughed again.
A genuine laugh this time.
"Oui," she said. "Very cute."
Ron's ears turned red.
But unfortunately… I could already see where this was heading.
Fleur's expression softened.
The sort of expression people wore when delivering disappointing news.
"But unfortunately," she continued gently, "I will have to say no."
There it was, the killing blow.
"I'm sorry, but I already have someone I wish to go to ze ball with."
For a brief moment, disappointment flashed across Ron's face.
A perfectly normal reaction.
He was fourteen, and his crush had just rejected him.
The fact that he didn't immediately attempt to dive into the Black Lake was already a victory.
Then something remarkable happened.
Ron smiled, and it wasn't a forced smile or a bitter one.
But a completely genuine smile.
"Well," he said, "it was worth a try."
Fleur looked pleasantly surprised.
"Good luck with that."
He nodded toward her.
"Guess I'll see you around."
And then he left.
No begging.
No sulking.
No dramatic declarations of eternal heartbreak.
He simply accepted the answer and walked away with his head held high.
Back straight.
Dignity intact.
Classy.
Very classy.
From my hiding place, I wiped away a completely real and not at all imaginary tear.
"That's my boy," I whispered proudly.
Years ago, Ronald Weasley would have panicked, stumbled over his words, and probably tripped over his own feet on the way out.
Now?
He had approached one of the most sought-after girls in three schools, asked her to the Yule Ball, accepted rejection gracefully, and left without embarrassing himself.
I felt like a proud parent.
Or perhaps a proud artist admiring his masterpiece.
Fleur watched Ron disappear down the corridor.
Then, to my surprise, she looked down at the bouquet again.
A small smile appeared on her lips.
"Hmm."
Interesting.
Not enough to earn him a date, but enough to leave a good impression.
And honestly?
For a first rejection, that was practically a victory.
I nodded to myself.
Now all I had to do was make sure Harry's attempt went equally well.
…
Seeing it was time for dinner, I entered the Great Hall and made my way toward my usual seat at the staff table beside Sirius.
The enchanted ceiling above reflected the darkening evening sky, countless stars beginning to emerge overhead. The Hall buzzed with conversation. Students from Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang filled the long tables, discussing everything from the first task to the upcoming Yule Ball.
Aurora wasn't present. Since she worked nights, she would only arrive at the castle after dinner.
I settled into my chair and began serving myself.
A perfectly roasted chicken wing had just reached my plate when I noticed movement at the Gryffindor table.
My eyes immediately narrowed as I realised that Harry was making his move.
I glanced around the Hall and confirmed my suspicion. Half the school was present. Several hundred witnesses, at minimum.
Bold.
Risky.
Entirely in character for Gryffindor's golden boy.
"Very courageous," I whispered approvingly.
Beside me, Sirius looked up from his dinner. "What is?"
I subtly nodded toward the Gryffindor table.
Sirius followed my gaze, and a grin immediately spread across his face.
"Oh ho."
Oh ho indeed.
Seeing Harry approaching Hermione, I nudged Sirius lightly with my elbow.
The two of us exchanged knowing smiles before settling more comfortably into our seats.
This promised to be excellent entertainment.
I was already preparing to enjoy the show when a voice interrupted me.
"Professor Lockhart, can I have a word with you?"
I turned reluctantly toward the speaker.
Fleur Delacour stood beside the staff table.
The young witch was looking directly at me, her bright blue eyes fixed on mine with enough intensity to make me slightly nervous.
"Can it wait a bit?" I asked hopefully.
I even pointed discreetly toward Harry.
A truly historic moment was about to unfold.
Unfortunately, Fleur proved completely unsympathetic.
"It 'as to be now," she said firmly.
Her gaze never left me.
I looked back toward the Gryffindor table, where Harry appeared to be gathering his courage.
Any second now.
Surely she could wait thirty seconds.
Apparently not.
Sirius, meanwhile, had noticed the situation and looked deeply conflicted.
His head turned toward Harry.
Then toward Fleur.
Then back toward Harry.
Then back toward Fleur.
It was rather amusing.
The man looked as though he had been asked to choose between watching the Quidditch World Cup Final and witnessing a dragon fight.
"Go with Fleur," he muttered.
Then he immediately looked back at Harry.
"No, wait, stay."
Another glance toward Fleur.
"No, definitely go."
I rolled my eyes.
Very helpful.
"Professor." Fleur's tone sharpened slightly.
I was running out of time.
I cast one final longing glance toward the Gryffindor table.
At that exact moment, I saw Harry extend a small bouquet of pink roses toward a thoroughly stunned Hermione Granger.
My shoulders slumped.
The show had begun and I was going to miss it.
With the sigh of a man abandoning happiness itself, I rose from my chair.
"Alright," I said. "I'm all ears."
Fleur nodded immediately. "It needs to be private."
She glanced toward the entrance of the Great Hall.
That did little to calm my growing concern.
A private conversation with the beautiful foreign champion was definitely going to complicate things.
Still, there was little I could do.
I straightened my robes and stepped away from the table.
As I passed Sirius, he gave me a broad grin and an enthusiastic thumbs-up.
I stared at his wiggling eyebrows and considered hexing him for a moment.
But instead, I continued walking.
Fleur led the way toward the Hall's entrance while I followed behind her, acutely aware of the curious looks several students were already sending our way.
This was exactly how rumours started.
And somehow, I had the distinct feeling that whatever Fleur wanted to discuss was not going to make my life any simpler.
…