Dances, Deception and Death Eaters

Chapter 8

18 months 4 days and approximately 14 hours.

It had been 18 months 4 days and approximately 14 hours since that Christmas when everything changed. Since I decided I wasn't going to fight Beauxbatons' way anymore, but survive it. I had stopped retaliating against the girls' hexes, stopped playing into their cruel little games. I'd learned how to stay silent and endure. I still wasn't one of them, but I had become invisible—enough to avoid their worst attacks, at least.

But no matter how much I played along, the hexes never truly stopped. They would never stop. Not until I left this place for good.

Today, though, I couldn't think about the bullies. I couldn't think about the bruises that still faded into purple and yellow splotches beneath my robes. I had to focus. It was dance examination day, and at Beauxbatons, that meant everything.

The ornate ballroom sparkled like something out of a dream. Crystal chandeliers cast a soft glow over the polished marble floors, and the high, arched windows were framed by delicate silk curtains. The girls in my year had gathered along the sides, all wearing the same light blue ball gowns adorned with tiny gemstones, the same poised expressions, ready to prove themselves. This wasn't just an exam. It was a test of grace, of elegance—the very essence of Beauxbatons.

Our dance partners had arrived earlier that morning, Vandergladaan students brought in just for this occasion. Tall, strong, and skilled, each one handpicked to guide us through the Viennese Waltz, the most graceful and demanding dance in our curriculum.

One by one, the girls stepped onto the floor, taking their turns. We were expected to watch each performance from the side-lines, to study, to silently judge. The pressure in the room was palpable—every turn, every step, every slight misstep was noted by the judges, Madame Maxime among them, her imposing figure seated at the head of the panel. Her eyes never missed a single detail.

When my name was called, I took a deep breath. The familiar tension in my chest coiled tighter, but I wouldn't let it show. Not today.

I held my head high and walked onto the floor, my heels clicking softly against the marble. My dance partner was already there—tall, dark-haired, with a stern expression that never softened. He bowed to me, and I curtsied in return, taking my place beside him, hand poised on his shoulder, the other lifted for balance. Perfect posture, just as we had been taught. I had to get this right.

I had worked so hard to reach this moment. Each step I was about to make on that dance floor was one step closer to me returning to Hogwarts. No one could take this away from me.

As I waited for the music to begin, I felt it—a slight drizzle, a cold, wet sensation on the back of my neck. I didn't have to look up to know what it was. The unmistakable drip, drip, drip of a conjured raincloud. One of the girls had hexed me. Again.

Of course they had.

I heard faint giggles from the side-lines, but I didn't react. I couldn't afford to. I had learned to expect these things, learned not to flinch when they happened. This was a test, not just of my dancing but of my resolve. If I faltered now, they would know they had won.

The music started, the deep lilting tones of Black Pearl by D Maksy filled the ballroom, and I began to move.

I stepped into the first turn, guiding my partner with a fluidity I hadn't known I was capable of, showing him I would continue despite the hex. The rain continued to fall on me alone, a constant trickle down the back of my gown, but I didn't let it affect me. My feet glided across the floor with precision, each step perfectly placed, each spin timed flawlessly with the rise and fall of the waltz. The dramatic tension in the song building on each spin, the intensity of the dance taking over me as I put everything I had into it. Shutting my mind off to everything around, I let the music flow through me like I was at one with the composer, expertly rising and falling with the music.