Adventures of Harriet Potter

The Yule Ball

Despite the very heavy load of homework that the fourth years had been given for the holidays, Harriet had all of her work finished and ready to hand in when term ended, and spent the week leading up to Christmas enjoying herself as fully as possible along with everyone else. Gryffindor Tower was hardly less crowded now than during term-time; it seemed to have shrunk slightly too, as its inhabitants were being so much rowdier than usual. Fred and George had had a great success with their Canary Creams, and for the first couple of days of the holidays, people kept bursting into feather all over the place. Before long, however, all the Gryffindors had learned to treat food anybody else offered them with extreme caution, in case it had a Canary Cream concealed in the center, and George confided to Harriet that he and Fred were now working on developing something else. Harriet made a mental note never to accept so much as a crisp from Fred and George in future. She still hadn't forgotten Dudley and the Ton-Tongue Toffee.
Snow was falling thickly upon the castle and its grounds now. The pale blue Beauxbatons carriage looked like a large, chilly, frosted pumpkin next to the iced gingerbread house that was Hagrid's cabin, while the Durmstrang ship's portholes were glazed with ice, the rigging white with frost. The house-elves down in the kitchen were outdoing themselves with a series of rich, warming stews and savory puddings, and only Fleur Delacour seemed to be able to find anything to complain about. "It is too 'eavy, all zis 'Ogwarts food," they heard her saying grumpily as they left the Great Hall behind her one evening (Ron skulking behind Harriet, keen not to be spotted by Fleur). "I will not fit into my dress robes!"
"Oooh there's a tragedy," Hermione snapped as Fleur went out into the entrance hall. "She really thinks a lot of herself, that one, doesn't she?" Harriet had to agree there. "Hermione — who are you going to the ball with?" said Ron. He kept springing this question on her, hoping to startle her into a response by asking it when she least expected it. However, Hermione merely frowned and said, "I'm not telling you, you'll just make fun of me." Harriet had been asking as well, and only gotten blushes out of her bushy haired roommate.
"You're joking, Weasley!" said Malfoy, behind them. "You're not telling me someone's asked that to the ball? Not the long-molared Mudblood?" Harriet barely stopped herself from hexing him, and wasn't the only one amongst those not in Slytherin house, as she and Ron both whipped around, but Hermione said loudly, waving to somebody over Malfoy's shoulder, "Hello, Professor Moody!" Malfoy went pale and jumped backward, looking wildly around for Moody, but he was still up at the staff table, finishing his stew.
"Twitchy little ferret, aren't you, Malfoy?" said Hermione scathingly, and she, Harriet, and Ron went up the marble staircase laughing heartily. "Hermione," said Ron, looking sideways at her, suddenly frowning, "your teeth . . ." Harriet looked at them, having not really noticed anything different about them because she'd been busy preparing for the tournament. "What about them?" she said. "Well, they're different . . . I've just noticed. . . ." Ron said, the tips of his ears a little pink. "Of course they are — did you expect me to keep those fangs Malfoy gave me?" said Hermione casually, as if it were no big deal. "No, I mean, they're different to how they were before he put that hex on you. . . . They're all . . . straight and — and normal-sized." said Ron, fidgeting with his robes.
Hermione suddenly smiled very mischievously, and Harriet noticed it too: It was a very different smile from the one she remembered. "Well . . . when I went up to Madam Pomfrey to get them shrunk, she held up a mirror and told me to stop her when they were back to how they normally were," she said. "And I just . . . let her carry on a bit." She smiled even more widely. "Mum and Dad won't be too pleased. I've been trying to persuade them to let me shrink them for ages, but they wanted me to carry on with my braces. You know, they're dentists, they just don't think teeth and magic should — look! Pigwidgeon's back!"
Ron's tiny owl was twittering madly on the top of the icicle-laden banisters, a scroll of parchment tied to his leg. People passing him were pointing and laughing, and a group of third-year girls paused and said, "Oh look at the weeny owl! Isn't he cute?" Harriet rolled her eyes. "Stupid little feathery git!" Ron hissed, hurrying up the stairs and snatching up Pigwidgeon. "You bring letters to the addressee! You don't hang around showing off!" Pigwidgeon hooted happily, his head protruding over Ron's fist. The third-year girls all looked very shocked.
"Clear off!" Ron snapped at them, waving the fist holding Pigwidgeon, who hooted more happily than ever as he soared through the air. "Here — take it, Harriet," Ron added in an undertone as the third-year girls scuttled away looking scandalized. He pulled Sirius's reply off Pigwidgeon's leg, Harriet pocketed it, and they hurried back to Gryffindor Tower to read it. Everyone in the common room was much too busy in letting off more holiday steam to observe what anyone else was up to. Ron, Harriet, and Hermione sat apart from everyone else by a dark window that was gradually filling up with snow, and Harriet read out: