The Girl Who Hid | ✓

|47| Yule Ball

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," I heard her saying grumpily as we left the Great Hall behind her one evening (Ron skulking behind Harry, 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?"

"Hermione— who are you going to the ball with?" said Ron.

Hermione said nothing to him.

"Maisey, what about you?" he tried me.

I didn't respond either and looked to the side to see Fred staring at me. Heat rose to my cheeks and I covered it up with a cough and took a sip of my pumpkin juice.

Ron kept springing that question on us, hoping to startle one of us into a response by asking it when we least expected it. However, Hermione merely frowned and said, "I'm not telling you, you'll just make fun of me."

"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?"

Harry, Ron, and I 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, Harry, Ron, and I went up the marble staircase laughing heartily.

Up in the common room, Pig came back with a letter from Sirius for Harry. Ron shouted at a group of third years and they quickly scurried away, leaving the four of us alone in the common room. Ron, Harry, Hermione, and I sat by a dark window that was gradually filling up with snow, and Harry read out:

To Harry and Maisey,

Congratulations on getting past the Horntail and Bluebell. Whoever put your names in that goblet shouldn't be feeling too happy right now! I was going to suggest a Conjunctivitis Curse, as a dragon's eyes are its weakest point—

"That's what Krum did!" Hermione whispered.

—but your ways were better, I'm impressed.

Don't get complacent, though. You've only done one task; whoever put you in for the tournament's got plenty more opportunity if they're trying to hurt you guys. Keep your eyes open— particularly when the person we discussed is around— and concentrate on keeping yourself out of trouble.

Keep in touch, I still want to hear about anything unusual.

Sirius

"He sounds exactly like Moody," said Harry quietly, tucking the letter away again inside his robes. " 'Constant vigilance!' You'd think I walk around with my eyes shut, banging off the walls!"

Christmas morning was probably one of the best ones I've had. I had loads of presents from my friends: Hermione had gotten me a book called Charms. Potions, Transfigurations Oh My!; Ron, a box of shortcakes from Honeydukes; Harry, a bottle of disappearing ink; and Fred and George, a bag of Dungbombs. There were two presents that I hadn't expected to get: a box full of candies from Hagrid and a beautiful Mustard yellow sweater from Mrs. Weasley. I almost cried when I saw the sweater. I was upset that this was the first year I hadn't gotten any presents from Lupin, but it was understandable being that I have no clue where he is as of now.