Spellbind

3. I never knew Quidditch could be so...Interesting.

A/N:
>>>>> = Timeskip
<<<<< = Flashback
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TRIWIZARD TOURNAMENT
THE DELEGATIONS FROM BEAUXBATONS AND
DURMSTRANG WILL BE ARRIVING AT 6 O'CLOCK
ON SATURDAY THE 31ST OF OCTOBER.

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Niyla POV:

The sign had been hanging at the foot of the marble staircase in the entrance hall for the past week. The excitement of it all grew more intense as the days progressed. Draco, Crabbe, Goyle, and I planned to take a carriage to Hogsmeade and return at the end of the day for the feast. By one in the afternoon we were walking through the streets of the wizard-only village, its quaint quality still a bit pleasing to the eye. There were bookstores, several pubs, even clothing shops.— That I had privately planned to visit.

I automatically reached for my pouch in the pocket of my knee length coat, sighing with relief that I didn't forget the money my father had sent me. I was thankful Remus had sent it, I realized, to get dress alterations in the shops in town were far more expensive than I had imagined. And there would have been no way I would've been allowed to go to Diagon Alley to get more money from Gringotts. We meandered past several small buildings, my eyes lingered on the ones that had dresses in their front windows.

"S'pose one of the fat desperate Beauxbatons, will ask you, Crabbe," Goyle had joked.

Draco had been telling us about a ball that will take place on Christmas Day; anything happening at Hogwarts the Ministry will know, and since the Minister and Draco's father— Lucius Malfoy— are close friends, naturally Draco will be in on everything that will happen.

"At least he'd have a date, Goyle, who are you going to take? Maybe Filch will have a dance with you," Draco laughed.

"Yeah?" Goyle's naturally puffy cheeks turned red. "Well who are you going to take?" He spat.

"Mmm," Draco pursed his lips with a smile, his single dimple visible. "Hey, Niy—"

"Hell, no," I said quickly.

We wandered into the Three Broomsticks and they became preoccupied with their less than interesting conversation topics, as I sipped on my Butterbeer in the corner of our booth. Until they decided to use the restroom, I dismissed myself from them, telling Draco I'd just be a few shops back from where we came. A particular dress had caught my attention; we agreed to meet at the carriages at four. I had an hour and a half in the clothing shop.

"How can I help you?" An older woman with a crackly voice and shaky hands greeted me.

"Oh—Um," I glanced at the slightly out of date dresses. A closer look at the dress, I realized its wool fabric looked like it might irritate my skin.

"Can I have a look at your most recent dresses?"

"Of course, dear," she said kindly. Gesturing for me to follow.

The shop was sizable, a small circular raised floor with three gilt frames on one size of it, the position; a clear view from the large glass window at the entrance.

"But, I should warn you," she spoke with a natural tremble in her voice. "These were made a decade ago."

She paused by a high rack, with about twenty dresses; she held up her hands.

"I prefer to make clothes without magic, my old hands aren't what they used to be. I can only make small alterations now," she smiled without showing any teeth.