At Hogwarts, Hagrid wasn't the only one concerned about Hermione's dance partner for the Yule Ball.
The night before Christmas, Fred and George sauntered into the Gryffindor common room, lugging a sack of roasted meat and chuckling to themselves. Their eyes landed on Ron, slouched in a corner, pretending to read a book while furtively scanning the girls around him. Spotting their younger brother's antics, the twins' faces lit up with mischief.
"Little Ronnie, what're you gawking at?" Fred (or possibly George) asked, his tone dripping with amusement. "Don't tell me… you still haven't found a dance partner?"
"Mind your own business," Ron muttered, sinking deeper into his chair. "There's still two days till the ball. Plenty of time…"
"Listen, Ronnie," George (or maybe Fred) said, clapping a hand on Ron's shoulder with mock solemnity, "you'd better pick up the pace, or all the good girls will be taken. What, are you planning to go with Eloise Midgen? Her acne's cleared up a bit, sure, but you're not that desperate, are you?"
"Dancing with a girl nearly ten inches taller than you…" Fred (or perhaps George) added, shuddering theatrically. "The thought alone's terrifying."
"And what about you two?" Ron shot back, eyeing Fred and George.
"Good question. George has already asked Katie," Fred said, turning to glance at Angelina Johnson, who was chatting quietly with a few girls by the fireplace.
"Oi, Angelina!" Fred called out. "Fancy going to the ball with me?"
Angelina, mid-conversation, turned to appraise Fred with a quick once-over before nodding with a bright grin. "Sure, why not?"
She resumed her chat, but a faint smile lingered on her lips.
"Done," Fred said, shooting Ron a smug, eyebrow-waggling grin.
The twins ducked into their dormitory for a quick visit before bustling out of the common room again. Meanwhile, Ron, having just witnessed Fred go from single to partnered in under a minute, began to panic.
"Harry, mate, we need to take action," Ron said, sidling up to Harry. "What about Parvati Patil? I hear she's got a twin sister. We could each take one. I'm not dancing with some troll."
"Ravenclaw's Padma Patil already accepted someone else's invitation," Hermione interjected from Harry's other side. "This morning, actually."
"Huh?" Ron blinked, then turned to Hermione. "Hermione, you're a girl."
Hermione's eyes flicked up from the hefty tome in her lap, fixing Ron with a withering glare. "Your powers of observation are truly remarkable."
"Didn't Hagrid say the champions have to open the dance?" Ron pressed on. "So, pick one of us—me or Harry—and then…"
"I'm not some leftover nobody wants!" Hermione snapped, her eyes blazing. "Plenty of people have asked me!"
"Yeah, yeah, loads of people," Ron said dismissively. "So, pick one of us, and the other can—"
"I've already got a partner," Harry said suddenly, his gaze fixed on the flickering flames in the fireplace.
The air around them went still. After a long pause, Ron stared at Harry, incredulous. "Mate, when did you sort out a partner for the ball? How am I completely in the dark?"
"Harry… is that true?" Hermione's voice, trembling slightly, came from beside him. "You've really… got a partner?"
Harry fought the urge to look at her, his eyes locked on the fire. He nodded.
"Fine… I hope you have a great time at the ball," Hermione said sharply, standing abruptly and clutching her book as she stormed toward the girls' dormitory.
"Hey, Hermione, since Harry's sorted, why don't you come with me—" Ron began, but he didn't finish.
Hermione spun around and hurled her book at him with startling force.
As the sound of her retreating footsteps faded, Harry kept his eyes on the fire, unmoving.
Ducking the projectile book, Ron grumbled under his breath before trying to pry details about Harry's partner out of him. But no matter what Ron said, Harry remained silent.
As the night deepened, Gryffindor students trickled back to their dormitories. Ron, after losing a game of wizard's chess to Dean, finally headed to bed. Eventually, the common room was empty except for Harry, who sat alone by the fire, his emerald eyes lost in the dancing yellow flames.
The next morning, with no Harry to nudge them awake or Hermione to chivvy them along, Ron and the others slept in—a rare treat. Only Neville, up early for his prayers, was awake when Fred and George burst in, sporting new Christmas jumpers. Ron and the others finally dragged themselves out of bed, bleary but content.
After a quick wash, they checked the time and decided to dive into their Christmas presents.
"Blimey! Harry got me a full Quidditch pitch model!" Ron exclaimed, tearing open his largest gift.
"Harry got me a moving football team set—with a stadium!" Dean said, even more thrilled than Ron.
Ever since Harry had come into some money, the quality of Christmas gifts for the dormitory had noticeably improved—except for Harry himself, who wasn't there to join in.
"Honestly, it's Christmas. Can't Harry skip training for once and open his presents?" Seamus said, eyeing Harry's neatly made bed and the pile of unopened gifts beside it.
"Come on, you know Harry," Ron said, waving a hand. "In four years, when have you ever seen him postpone morning training for anything?"
Unwrapping gifts took nearly two hours, and by the time they were done, their stomachs were rumbling. They headed down to the Great Hall for lunch, where Hermione and Neville were nearly finished eating.
Hermione's eyes swept over Ron, Dean, and Seamus, her brow furrowing. "Ron, where's Harry?"
"Dunno," Ron said with a shrug. "Haven't seen him all morning. Probably off at Hagrid's."
Unlike Hermione, who was prone to worrying, Ron and the others weren't concerned about Harry. With his skills, if Harry ran into trouble, it was the troublemakers who'd need worrying about.
Seeing Hermione's frown deepen, Ron plopped down across from her and grabbed a roast lamb chop. "Relax, Hermione. Harry's fine. He's Harry. Instead of fretting about him, worry about yourself. You're a Hogwarts champion, and the ball's tonight. If you show up without a partner, we'll all look bad. If you're really stuck, I don't mind stepping in…"
Hermione's glare could've melted steel. "I don't need your help! And for your information, I have a partner!"
With that, she stormed out of the Great Hall.
Ron stared after her, dumbfounded. "No way. Someone actually asked her?"
Neville, swallowing a gulp of pumpkin juice, grabbed a lamb chop. "Yeah, Ron, someone did ask her." Noticing the curious looks from Ron and the others, he shrugged. "But Hermione told me not to tell you lot."
"What about you, Neville?" Ron asked. "Who's your partner?"
"Er… I just remembered I've got something to do…" Neville mumbled, scrambling to his feet. But before he could escape, two redheads grabbed him from behind.
"Neville, you'd better spill," Fred (or possibly George) said with a wicked grin, clamping onto Neville's left arm. George (or maybe Fred) seized his right, and together they pinned him in place.
"Oh, come on, Neville, just tell them," Ginny said from the side, exasperated. "They'll find out tonight anyway."
Fred, George, and Ron's eyes darted between Ginny and Neville, their expressions growing dangerous.
"What're you staring at?" Ginny snapped, squaring her shoulders under her brothers' glares. "This morning, Neville asked me to the ball, and I said yes. Got a problem with that?"
"Oh, that's not good news," a dark-haired boy nearby sighed. "I was going to ask Ginny myself…"
"Mike, my sister's only thirteen, and you're making a move?!" Fred and George released Neville and pounced on the boy, rolling across the floor in a tangle of fists, punctuated by Mike's yelps and pleas for mercy.
"Neville! My sister's only thirteen, and you're making a move?!" Ron bellowed, glaring at Neville, who glared right back.
"So what? I'm only fourteen!"
Ginny glanced at the brawl on her left and the brewing fight on her right, sighing heavily. "Boys…"
That evening, after dinner, Ron, Seamus, Dean, and Neville changed into their dress robes in the dormitory. They were all visibly nervous—so much so that Ron accidentally Transfigured his robes backward. Thankfully, Seamus noticed something was off before they left.
"I still can't believe you managed to snag the prettiest girl in our year," Dean muttered, trailing behind Ron.
"Opposites attract, mate," Ron said, smoothing his hair as he led the way into the common room.
When Ron, clad in a sleek fire-red dress robe, stood beside his equally stunning partner, Parvati Patil, even Fred and George—never shy about ribbing their brother—had to admit Ron looked, well, a tiny bit handsome.
The common room was a riot of color, the usual sea of black robes replaced by vibrant dress robes swirling about. As the time neared, students began filtering out of Gryffindor Tower.
The entrance hall was packed with students milling about, waiting for eight o'clock. At half past seven, the first champion and his partner appeared.
Amid a wave of cheers, Cedric Diggory, dashing in black dress robes, entered with Ravenclaw's Seeker, Cho Chang, on his arm. The sight of their clasped hands broke more than a few hearts in the crowd.
At a quarter to eight, Fleur Delacour glided in with her partner. Her silver-gray satin gown shimmered, her sleek hair elegantly pinned up, radiating breathtaking beauty. By contrast, her partner—Ravenclaw's Quidditch captain, Roger Davies—looked rather ordinary. Fleur didn't even let him take her arm.
With ten minutes to go, the Durmstrang contingent arrived, led by Karkaroff. At the forefront, nearly side by side with his headmaster, was Viktor Krum, striking in red dress robes, accompanied by a pretty girl in a pink gown.
Meanwhile, a commotion erupted near the staircase. The crowd parted instinctively, revealing a stunning girl in a blue robe, nervously glancing around as she approached the hall.
"Is there really a girl that gorgeous at Hogwarts?" Ron and the surrounding boys wondered silently as she drew closer, her beauty rivaling even Fleur's.
"Ron, where's Harry?" the girl asked, her voice unmistakably Hermione's.
"Dunno," Ron said, gawking at the vision before him, who somehow embodied his every fantasy. "Haven't seen him all day. Maybe he got lost somewhere?" He extended a hand, his voice dreamy. "Hi, I'm Ron."
"Stop messing about!" Hermione snapped, swatting his hand away, her face taut with worry. "Harry's been missing nearly all day! Aren't you worried?"
"Why would I be?" Ron said, finally snapping out of his daze, though his eyes lingered on her. "It's Harry. I'd be in trouble before he would."
"Talking to you is a waste of time," Hermione huffed, turning to scan the crowd for a familiar face. After a fruitless search, she spotted Professor McGonagall and began pushing her way toward her.
Just as Hermione neared McGonagall, Filch, dressed in his own formal attire, hurried through the crowd. Those nearby—including Hermione—caught McGonagall's stifled gasp: "What? A house-elf saw a drunken Harry Potter on the roof of the West Tower?"
A ripple of chaos spread through the crowd. McGonagall turned, just as a tabby cat leapt over people's heads, streaking toward the West Tower.
At that moment, Luna Lovegood, wearing a purple robe adorned with her signature butterbeer cork necklace, approached Ron and the others.
"Excuse me, have you seen Hermione?"
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