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The number of students staying at Hogwarts for this year's Christmas holiday has set a record since the school's founding.
This is not an exaggeration at all.
At this time in previous years, the Castle would have been empty, and the number of people you'd encounter in the corridors could be counted on one hand. The students who stayed were either too far from home to bother going back or had some special reason. In short, they were few and far between.
But this year was different.
This year's pile of applications to stay was thick enough to crush someone to death.
The reason was simple—the Yule Ball.
A traditional part of the Triwizard Tournament, a once-in-a-century event. With the teachers and students of the whole school plus guests from six schools, it's said that many people from the Ministry of Magic will also attend. Who would want to miss such an occasion?
For example, Edgar and the other two, who had always gone home for Christmas in previous years.
Edgar's parents had messaged him early to ask if he was coming back, and his reply was worded quite grandly:
"As a member of Hufflepuff, your son feels deeply obligated to remain at school during this important moment of international exchange, to contribute his meager strength to enhancing the friendship of the global wizarding community..."
Lynn glanced at the message at the time and almost spat out his breakfast.
"You call this 'contributing meager strength'?" He pointed at the passage in the letter. "This is clearly an eight-hundred-word expansion of 'I want to stay for the ball.'"
Edgar said righteously, "So what? I'm doing this to sound cultured."
William pushed up his glasses nearby, his tone flat. "'Sounding cultured' and 'actually being cultured' are two different things."
Edgar glared at him.
Ollie was as silent as ever, only sending a message to his old man:
I'm not coming back.
As for their purpose for staying, Lynn didn't need to guess to know.
To accompany their dates while picking out dress robes.
Edgar's date was a Ravenclaw Witch. With brown hair and round-rimmed glasses, she spoke very gently; she looked like the type who would spend all day in the library.
When Edgar introduced her, he even made a point of emphasizing, "She likes reading; we have a lot in common."
Lynn couldn't help but ask, "How many books have you read?"
Edgar fell silent and then changed the subject.
William's date was a Gryffindor Witch. With short red hair and a smile that revealed a row of white teeth, she radiated an aura of "don't mess with me."
Her most distinct feature was that she didn't like reading.
When William introduced her, he said, "She has a very cheerful personality."
Lynn asked at the time, "How did you two meet?"
William pushed up his glasses. "She asked to borrow my notes in the library."
Lynn asked again, "And then?"
William thought for a moment. "Then she lost my notes."
Lynn fell silent.
But William's expression didn't seem to mind. It was unclear whether he truly didn't care or if he had already been conquered by some strange charm.
Ollie's date was even more ridiculous.
A Slytherin half-blood Witch with black hair and big eyes. She was usually chirpy and talkative, the complete opposite of Ollie.
The first time Lynn saw them standing together, he almost thought his eyes were playing tricks on him—one taciturn, one a non-stop talker; no matter how you looked at it, the combination was bizarre.
In short, three pairs of dates, multiple styles, and the only common point was that the process of picking dress robes made everyone lose the will to live.
...
Hogsmeade.
A shop specializing in dress robes was located in the middle of the main street. The storefront wasn't large, but the robes displayed in the window were clearly expensive.
Dark wool, exquisite embroidery, and silk with a soft luster—every piece screamed one word: expensive.
Lynn and the other three sat side by side on a bench in a corner of the shop.
Everyone had several bags in their hands containing newly bought dress robes—or, to be more precise, the robes they were helping their dates carry, the ones the dates had tried on and kept for selection.
Lynn looked down at the pile of bags in his hands, then at the piles in the hands of the other three, and let out a long sigh.
"I'd only heard that shopping was tiring before," he said, his tone carrying deep exhaustion, "but I didn't expect it to be this kind of tired—mentally exhausted."
Edgar nodded in deep agreement. Just as he was about to speak, his expression suddenly changed.
The speed of that face change was astonishing; it took less than a tenth of a second to go from "losing the will to live" to "radiant."
"What do you mean mentally exhausted?" His voice became impassioned. "I don't feel anything at all! How can you say accompanying your date to buy dress robes is tiring? This is an honor! An enjoyment! It's a duty every Wizard should fulfill!"
Lynn could have guessed what was happening even with his toes. Their dates must have finished changing and come out.
He shot a look of disdain at Edgar and then turned his head to follow his gaze.
Then he froze for a moment.
Fleur, dressed in her finery, was standing at the door of the fitting room.
She was wearing a silver-blue robe, the fabric as soft as if woven from moonlight, fluttering gently with her movements. The collar and cuffs were embroidered with exquisite patterns that shimmered with a soft luster under the lights. Her long silver hair was left down, loosely gathered behind her head with a thin ribbon, with a few strands hanging by the sides of her face.
She stood there, her gaze sweeping over the four of them before finally landing on Lynn.
Lynn looked her up and down.
Then he gave her a big thumbs-up.
"Yo," he said, his tone as sincere as could be, "now that you're all dressed up, you're even more beautiful."
Fleur was stunned for a moment, then rolled her eyes at him.
"The way you compliment people always sounds so annoying," she said.
Lynn blinked. "Really? I'm clearly being very sincere."
Fleur didn't bother arguing with him and walked over to sit down beside him.
"Are you guys done picking?" Lynn asked.
"Mhm." Fleur nodded. "What about you?"
Lynn shook the bags in his hand. "I'm helping them. Mine was bought a long time ago."
Fleur glanced at his bags, then at the three witches still going in and out of the fitting rooms not far away. The corners of her mouth curled up slightly.
"So you're just sitting here waiting?"
Lynn sighed. "Otherwise? Go in and help them pick?"
Fleur thought about that image and couldn't help laughing.
"That would indeed be inappropriate."
The two sat side by side like that, watching the three witches twirling in front of the mirrors and occasionally exchanging opinions. Edgar and the others stood nearby, holding more and more bags, their expressions becoming increasingly numb.
Lynn watched this scene and suddenly spoke.
"Where's that sister of yours?"
"Gabrielle?" Fleur said. "She's over with the Beauxbatons group. Madame Maxime is looking after her."
Lynn nodded.
Silence settled between them for a while.
Fleur suddenly turned to look at him.
"Don't you want to ask me why I chose you as my date?"
Lynn thought for a moment and asked back, "Wasn't it because you said you had no requirements?"
Fleur choked on her words again.
She glared at him, not knowing how to respond for a moment.
Lynn looked at her expression and couldn't help laughing.
"Alright," he said, "I know you must have your reasons. But since you said there were no requirements, I won't ask. It's just a dance anyway; it's not like I'll lose a limb."
Fleur was silent for two seconds.
Then she said softly, "Thank you."
Lynn waved his hand.
"Don't be so polite. It's quite unsettling."
Fleur's fists clenched with a creaking sound, yet she still maintained a proper smile on her face, frantically comforting herself in her mind:
Don't get angry, don't get angry, for the victory of Beauxbatons.
Lynn glanced at her.
"Are you angry? No way? No way?!"
"Lynn!!!"
Veela_spitting_fire.jpg
Ten minutes later...
"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I will compensate you for your loss!"
"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! She will compensate you for your loss!"
Shop owner: "..."