The Noctis Codex | DRARRY

SEVENTEEN

As the music played softly in the background, Hermione leaned back in her chair, glancing at her friends with a mischievous glint in her eye. "After all that dancing, I think we should celebrate properly. What do you all say to a glass of champagne?"

Ron's face lit up at the suggestion. "Count me in! I could use a drink after all that spinning around."

Ginny, however, frowned, crossing her arms over her chest. "I can't believe you guys are all drinking. You know I'm not old enough yet."

"Don't worry, Gin," her brother told her with a playful wink. "You can just stick to the pumpkin juice. More for us!"

With that, the three of them made their way over to the long table laden with glasses of sparkling champagne, glancing back at Ginny, who shook her head, a smile breaking through despite her earlier protest.

As they approached the beverage, they noticed a group of first-years eyeing the drinks, whispering among themselves. One of them, a girl with pigtails, tentatively reached for a glass. However, as soon as her fingers brushed against it, a small burst of magic sent a mild shock through her fingers, causing her to yelp and jerk back.

"Serves you right!" Ron laughed, unable to suppress his amusement. "You'll have to wait a few more years for that privilege." He picked up a glass for himself and raised it in a mock toast towards the younger students, sticking his tongue out at them playfully.

The first-years glared at him, clearly annoyed but unable to retaliate.
As Ron took a sip, the atmosphere around them grew more vibrant. The laughter of students echoed throughout the hall, blending with the music, while the older students—having already indulged—were becoming increasingly more drunk.

Harry, feeling the buzz of the party, took a glass for himself, ready to join in on the revelry. His friend's voice floated through the crowd, joking about the night and how Hogwarts had outdone itself by serving alcohol.

As Harry picked up a second glass, he felt the familiar warmth spread through him, bolstering his spirits. Not long after, he went to get another glass, but just as he did, a sudden jolt of pain shot through his hands and underarms.

The boy gasped, the glass slipping from his fingers and shattering against the floor. The pain was overwhelming, a burning sensation that radiated through his entire body, and he instinctively grasped his arms, doubling over in agony. He could barely make sense of what was happening as gasps of laughter and shouts of joy drowned out his own distress. It was too loud for anyone to notice him, too loud to concentrate on anything.

He barely registered the chaos around him—students were dancing wildly, the volume rising, laughter echoing against the walls—but the pain became a roaring tide that washed over him, leaving him gasping and groaning, helpless against the sensation. The marks on his skin were expanding, each pulse a reminder of his torment.

Just then, a familiar presence surged through the crowd. Draco appeared at his side, his expression twisted in pain as well as he took in Harry's hunched posture.

"We need to get out of here," the blond urged, his voice low and intense as he dragged the other toward the exit, urging through the waves of students.

They burst out into the cool night air, leaving the chaotic scene behind them. The crisp breeze felt like a balm against Harry's heated skin, though the pain remained unyielding, each breath a reminder of his discomfort.

"Just breathe," Draco instructed, his tone suddenly more focused.

They settled against a stone wall, the sounds of the ball fading into the background as they leaned into the silence. Their chests were heaving, trying to ride out the pain coursing through them.