Hearing Grindelwald's words, Tom contemplated his reply. "Tell me, have you heard of the Triwizard Tournament?"
"A relic from my own school days," Grindelwald said, a flicker of nostalgia in his eyes before comprehension dawned. "You mean...?"
"I intend to give you the chance to dance with Albus Dumbledore, to fulfill one of his rather pathetic little wishes."
"..." Grindelwald paused, considering this. "I hadn't realized you and Dumbledore were so close." His mind flashed back to a recent letter from Dumbledore, mentioning a Christmas gift received from his favorite student. But he quickly dismissed the thought. Tom Riddle wasn't exactly his type, and he certainly wasn't the type to be "so kind."
"To be honest, I haven't moved properly in years..." Grindelwald stretched theatrically. "I rather think I've forgotten how to dance."
"..." These old men are such a pain. Always so suspicious. Can't they believe I don't have some ulterior motive? Understanding Grindelwald's hesitation, Tom abandoned any pretense of innocence. "Let's just say, for a few small reasons, I will be unable to simply observe from the sidelines..."
"Ohhh..." The knowing look on Grindelwald's face was precisely what Tom imagined Dumbledore's would be.
Tom shot Grindelwald a slightly annoyed look. "In any case, to prevent Dumbledore from causing as much trouble as you seem intent on, I need to give him something to occupy his time."
"Precisely! Your thinking is sound." Reassured that Tom wasn't lying, Grindelwald's mood visibly brightened. "That meddling fool is far too idle. If I don't keep him occupied, he'll only stir up trouble."
Their conversation continued as they arrived at their destination: the Elegant Wizarding Clothing Shop.
Ding-a-ling!
Tom pushed the door open. The middle-aged man seated inside, upon seeing them, hurried forward. "Professor Tom Riddle! What an unexpected pleasure. Is there anything I can assist you with?"
The man was named Elliott Hill, grandson of Augustus Hill, who had run the shop during the Lanlock cholera outbreak a century prior.
"Fit this old man for a bespoke evening suit." Tom gestured toward Grindelwald, then settled into a lounge chair. "And make sure it's the kind that will make his eyes light up!"
"Certainly, Professor. Trust my expertise!" Elliott beamed. "Leave it to me." He then ushered Grindelwald to the back for measurements.
While taking measurements, Elliott, unaware of Grindelwald's identity, made conversation. "Sir, where are you from? I don't believe I've seen you around before."
"I'm German, from a town called Gottlob," Grindelwald replied, pleased to have someone to talk to after so long. "Although I haven't been back in decades."
"Have you and your wife moved here?" Elliott asked, magically controlling a measuring tape as he measured Grindelwald's shoulder width and arm span.
"..." Grindelwald chuckled softly. "Not exactly. We haven't seen each other in a very long time."
"Ah, I see. Relationship troubles." Elliott nodded sympathetically. "Judging by your appearance, sir... you haven't dressed up in quite a while, have you?"
"Heh... I don't go out much, so there's no need to dress up."
"That won't please your wife."
Grindelwald raised an eyebrow. "What do you suggest, then?"
"Trust my judgment. While the clothes make the man, your inherent presence is exceptional. A custom-tailored evening suit will undoubtedly win your wife back."
"..." Grindelwald fell silent, momentarily picturing the scene. Albus… He wouldn't try to send me away immediately, would he?
...
Eventually, the day of the ball arrived. The setting sun painted the sky in flowing strokes, the initial gold gradually fading into a soft, deep blue.
"It's time." Cassandra changed into a white evening gown, predominantly turquoise. Eschewing the typical glitter of sequins, the turquoise had a fresh, ethereal quality to it. Emerald beads, like morning dew, adorned the gown; silk gloves, like snow-white clouds, protected her hands; and a deep blue jewel, like the sea, rested delicately between her collarbones. Undoubtedly, Cassandra would be the most stunning presence at the ball.
Unfortunately, the person she had been waiting for was currently setting a trap involving two old men. However, she had anticipated this. Fleur Delacour, also awaiting Tom Riddle's arrival, intercepted her as she left the Slytherin Common Room. As the champions and their partners conventionally opened the ball with a dance, it would have been extremely inappropriate to have Tom Riddle as her partner at that moment.
So she approached Fleur, who, coincidentally, had also not found a dance partner—or rather, had not found one she liked. The two struck it off, deciding to keep each other company.
However, they were not particularly special or unique; in fact, this situation was quite common at this ball.
"Shall we?" Hearing the voice, Fleur turned to see Cassandra and was momentarily stunned.
Cassandra was wearing an ice-blue evening gown that was equally stunning, outshining everyone else… but this was the first time she had felt such amazement at another girl. Cassandra, like her, possessed Veela blood and was no less beautiful, but Cassandra exuded a unique aura that Fleur lacked.
After a brief exchange, the two headed towards the Great Hall.
...
Meanwhile, Dumbledore, dressed in silver-gray robes, was on his way to the Great Hall. His robes and pointed hat were embroidered with stars and moons, the collar and cuffs covered in silver thread embroidery, and his pointed hat was adorned with embroidered patterns, as well as decorative silver chains and brooches.
Dumbledore was in high spirits today, and not just because Hogwarts was hosting a ball. According to his informants among the Hogwarts portraits, his favorite student, Tom Riddle, had been invited by a girl to be her dance partner.
Hmph, Tom... the professor has long suspected you were getting on in years, so let the professor observe... Dumbledore mused as he pushed open the doors of the Great Hall and froze, muttering under his breath, "Gellert?"
---