The Potter Twins and the Goblet of Fire

Chapter 21. The Unexpected Task

"Parcel for you, Mr Weasley," Dennis Creevy says brightly, approaching the five of us at the Gryffindor table. He hands over a messily wrapped parcel.

"Thank you, Dennis."

The boy stops dead and stares intently at Harry and I for a few moments, before Ron leans in close and mutters, "Not now, Dennis. Later."

The boy disappears, and I frown at Ron questionably.

"I told him I'd get him Harry and Olivia's autograph," Ron says, untying his package. Tay scoffs, shaking her head disapprovingly. "Oh look, Mum's sent me something."

He opens the package, revealing a frilly, lacy looking outfit. I choke on my porridge as he pulls it out and stands up, holding it to his chest.

"Mum sent me a dress."

"Well, it does match your eyes," I say sarcastically, grinning. "Is there a bonnet? Ah hah!" I pull out a bonnet and press it to his chest, giggling.

"Nose down, Olivia," Ron says, giving a small laugh. "Ginny, these must be for you."

"I'm not wearing that, it's ghastly," Ginny says, turning up her nose. Hermione and I begin to laugh, and I notice that many Gryffindors are now watching Ron, including his older brothers.

"What are you two on about?" He asks.

Fred, George and I burst into hysterical laughter.

"Dress robes," Hermione explains.

"Dress robes? For what?"

*~*

Ron's question is answered not long after, in a meeting McGonagall organized with Gryffindor house.

"The Yule Ball has been a tradition of the Triwizard Tournament since it's inception," she explains, after having separated us according to gender. "On Christmas Eve night, we and our guests gather in the Great Hall for a night of well-mannered frivolity. As representatives of the host school, I expect each and every one of you to put your best foot forward. And I mean this literally, because, the Yule Ball is, first and foremost, a dance."

Murmurs break out amongst us; many of the girls gasp excitedly, whilst Tay and I exchange looks of mock horror. The boys, however, groan.

"Silence," McGonagall says hastily. "The House of Godric Gryffindor has commanded the respect of the wizard world for nearly ten centuries. I will not have you, in the course of a single evening, besmirching that names that behaving like a babbling, bumbling band of baboons."

Across the room, I hear Fred whispers. "Try saying that five times fast, huh?"

"Babbling, bumbling band of baboons. Babbling bumbling band of baboons."

"...is to let the body breathe," McGonagall is saying as I avert my attention back to her, grinning. "Inside every girl, a secret swan slumbers longing to burst forth and take flight."

"Something's about to burst out of Eloise Midgen, but I don't think it's a swan," I hear Ron Mutter, earning several muffled sniggers.

"Inside every boy," McGonagall continues pointedly, "a lordly lion prepared to prance Mr. Weasley."

"Yes?"

"Will you join me, please?" McGonagall asks, approaching Ron, who hesitantly agrees.

"Hey, hey," the boys all echo, as Ron awkardly stands in the center of the room with McGonagall. 

"Now, place your right hand on my waist," she says.

"Where?' Ron asks incredulously.

"My waist."