[I apologise in advance for the short chapter and any inconsistencies that might crop up. Don't have much free time until the 14th. Hope you all understand.]
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25th December 1994
Hogwarts
It started subtly.
A second glance. A pause in conversation. Then another. And another.
Then the shift came.
Heads turned. Voices dipped. The scattered noise of the Entrance Hall died down one by one. The students gathered there, waiting for eight o'clock—when the doors to the Great Hall would be thrown open—watched with wide eyes and open mouths as Hermione and I walked down the marble staircase.
Obviously, the stares were more for her than for me, and I could tell my girl was thoroughly enjoying the attention. After all, it's not every day that the girl presumed to be a plain Jane turns up as the belle of the ball. Most of the girls in the hall were gazing at Hermione in open disbelief, and Pansy Parkinson—wearing frilly robes of pale pink and clutching Malfoy's arm—gaped at her as we passed.
The Entrance Hall was packed with students. Those meeting partners from different Houses were edging through the crowd, trying to find one another. I spotted some of our friends in the midst of the throng before my view was swallowed by the moving mass of teenagers.
The oak front doors opened, and I, along with everyone else, turned to look as the Durmstrang students entered with Karkaroff. Krum was at the front of the party, accompanied by a pretty girl from Beauxbatons, I believe.
Over their heads I saw that an area of lawn right in front of the castle had been transformed into a sort of grotto full of fairy lights — meaning hundreds of actual living fairies were sitting in the rosebushes that had been conjured there, and fluttering over the statues of what seemed to be Father Christmas and his reindeer.
Then Professor McGonagall's voice called, "Champions over here, please!"
Hermione nervously adjusted the corsage on her wrist. I gave her a reassuring smile, which she returned. Together, we walked forward, the chattering crowd parting to let us through.
Professor McGonagall, who was wearing dress robes of red tartan and had arranged a rather unflattering wreath of thistles around the brim of her hat, examined us critically, then gave an approving nod.
Fleur Delacour then materialized from the crowd, looking stunning in robes of silver-gray satin. She was accompanied by the Ravenclaw Quidditch captain, Roger Davies, but she didn't seem to be giving him much thought. Roger didn't appear to mind; he looked far too stunned by his good fortune in having Fleur as his partner to take his eyes off her.
As she came nearer, Fleur gave me a brilliant smile. For some reason, Hermione's arm—intertwined with mine—tightened just a fraction. I returned Fleur's dazzling smile with a polite one, then turned to look as Viktor finally walked up with his date beside him, who looked excited and nervous in equal measure.
Professor McGonagall surveyed us all, then said, "Please wait here for a moment. You will enter the Great Hall once all the other students have settled."
We waited to one side of the doors while the rest of the students walked in. Fleur and Roger stationed themselves nearest the entrance, followed by Viktor and his date, while Hermione and I stood at the rear.
A few seconds after the last of the students had gone in, Professor McGonagall announced, "Line up in pairs and follow me, please."
We entered the Great Hall to great applause. The walls of the Hall had all been covered in sparkling silver frost, with hundreds of garlands of mistletoe and ivy crossing the starry black ceiling. The House tables had vanished, leaving the enormous hall conspicuously empty. The students had lined up along the edges of the hall, forming a wide, brightly lit open space at the center.
I glanced at my girlfriend beside me. She looked around the hall at the sea of expectant faces, then took a deep breath and lifted her head just slightly higher.
Together with the other champions, we walked toward the center of the hall. A slow melody began to play, and I glanced to the side where Professor Flitwick stood on a slightly raised platform, wand in hand. Several musical instruments were positioned behind him, moving on their own as the Charms Professor waved his arms like a maestro conducting an orchestra.
Hermione and I turned to face each other. She still looked a bit unsure, as if afraid she was going to mess it up.
"There's no need to be nervous," I whispered, then gestured subtly to Fleur's dance partner. "Look at Roger—he can barely keep from tripping over his feet."
She gave a small smile, then stepped closer and placed her hand on my shoulder. I slid mine gently to her waist and took her other hand in mine. For a second, we simply stood there, gazing at each other while the rest of the world melted away.
Then we moved.
We started slow, gliding across the floor, easing into the rhythm rather than rushing into it. Hermione followed my lead instinctively, the result of hours of practice we had put in for this moment.
Turn.
A soft pivot, her dress brushing lightly against my leg as she circled. I adjusted my hand at her waist, giving her just enough direction to move freely.
Step.
Glide.
Turn again.
The world beyond the two of us began to blur. The music remained, but it no longer felt external—it felt like a part of us, something we were creating rather than following.
Hermione let out a quiet breath, her earlier tension slipping away. Her steps grew more confident, her body responding to the subtle cues in my movements. And truth be told, I didn't even have to think about leading—I simply did. The two of us fell into a rhythm that felt… natural.
At one turn, she looked up. She didn't speak, and neither did I.
We didn't have to.
We continued, closer now. Her head tilted slightly, resting for a moment near my shoulder. Our steps slowed, each movement stretching just a little longer, each turn a little gentler. There was no need to impress, no need to perform.
There was… just us.
Just this.
As the music swelled, the other students began to join the dance floor, hesitant yet enthusiastic. Colours blurred into motion—robes swirling, laughter beginning to replace tension, the rigid formality loosening into something more alive.
Harry and Ginny stepped onto the floor together, a little awkward at first, then gradually finding their rhythm. Neville and Luna followed, Luna's movements slightly unconventional but strangely fitting.
Dumbledore was waltzing with Madame Maxime. He was so dwarfed by her that the top of his pointed hat barely brushed her chin; however, she moved very gracefully for a woman so large. Professor Moody was doing a surprisingly elegant two-step with Professor Sinistra, who seemed pleasantly surprised.
And at the center of it all, Hermione and I continued to dance.
For in this moment, nothing else in the world mattered.
---
The final note of the waltz lingered in the air like a held breath.
Then it broke.
Applause surged through the Great Hall. Students clapped, laughing, turning ceremony into celebration.
Hermione let out a deep breath. "That was… a lot."
"Maybe," I smiled. "But don't pretend you didn't enjoy it."
"I won't," she admitted with a small smile. "Just that next time, I would prefer a smaller audience."
"Duly noted," I nodded.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Dumbledore wave his wand. Through the wide-open doors of the Great Hall, dozens of round tables zoomed in. Each was draped in crisp white cloth trimmed with gold, positioning themselves evenly across the hall. Another wave, and the tables expanded, each able to seat about a dozen people. With a final flick of the headmaster's wand, chairs appeared beside them, along with plates, goblets, and enchanted lanterns.
The table at the top of the hall was slightly larger. Dumbledore and the other judges took their places there. As previously directed by Professor McGonagall, I, the other champions, and our partners made our way to it. Around us, the rest of the students also began taking their seats.
Dumbledore smiled happily as we approached the top table. Ludo Bagman, tonight in robes of bright purple with large yellow stars, was clapping as enthusiastically as any of the students; Madame Maxime, who had changed her usual uniform of black satin for a flowing gown of lavender silk, was applauding us politely; and Karkaroff was looking at Viktor with such pride, as if he had already won the tournament. The only sourpuss at the table was Crouch, dressed in formal black robes and looking as interested as a vegan in a shawarma joint.
I pulled out Hermione's chair for her before taking a seat beside her. There was no food yet on the glittering golden plates, but small menus lay in front of each of us. Dumbledore looked carefully down at his own menu, then said very clearly to his plate, "Pork chops!"
And pork chops appeared. Getting the idea, the rest of the table placed our orders with our plates as well. Taking a bite of my caramelized red curry chicken with some noodles, I looked around the hall.
Hagrid was sitting at one of the other staff tables; he was wearing a large brown suit and gazing up at the top table. I saw him give a small wave, and, looking around, noticed Madame Maxime return it, her opals glittering in the candlelight.
A little farther away, my other friends were seated. They seemed to be doing alright. Neville and Luna were clearly having fun—Neville looking both nervous and delighted, while Luna seemed entirely at ease.
Harry didn't seem too put out at having Ginny as his date either. He was speaking animatedly, his hands moving slightly as he talked, while Ginny listened closely, occasionally adding something that made him grin in return.
Daphne and Tracey were also there. Quite a few boys had asked Daphne to the ball, but she had rejected them. She had come with Tracey instead, as friends.
Or perhaps something more.
Astoria was there as well, with a fourth-year Hufflepuff boy whose name I couldn't recall. But my gaze lingered on Rachel, who was sitting beside Michael Corner, her date for the evening.
I knew there was nothing going on between them. Rachel had accepted Michael's invitation simply because she wanted to attend the ball. But still, as her brother, I couldn't help watching him like a dragon, ready to unleash obscene amounts of violence should he ever make my baby sister sad—or, God forbid, cry.
"So, I was talking to the Head of the Russian Department of Magical Games and Sports the other day," Bagman said to Dumbledore, and I turned to look at them, "and he tells me there is great interest in the country regarding the Triwizard Tournament. Interest that has only grown stronger since the first task was shown live."
"I have received similar reports from other countries," added Crouch. "It isn't just Europe that has its eyes on the Tournament right now. The whole world is watching."
"All because of the Wiphones, no doubt," said Dumbledore, giving me a very small wink. "Hopefully, going forward, we will have more competitions such as this—ones that bring together people from distant shores and cultures."
"You must be quite proud of what you have achieved, Benjamin," Bagman said to me. "And at such a young age, nonetheless. Tell me, is there anything else you are working on right now?" he asked, leaning in.
"Well," I said, taking a sip of water, "to be perfectly honest, there are a couple of things I have been working on recently."
"Oh?" Bagman said with visible excitement, and the others at the table turned to look at me as well. "Do tell."
"Now that we have achieved worldwide communication, my focus is on improving our means of personal transportation," I said. "Specifically, Apparition."
"Apparition?" frowned Crouch. "What's wrong with it?"
"What's wrong with it?" I repeated. "How about everything? There's the ever-present risk of splinching, the physical discomfort, the distance limitation, the environmental risk factors…" I counted them off on my fingers. "Frankly, I don't know how wizardkind has come this far without finding something better."
"The Floo might have something to do with that," said Bagman jokingly. "And what about the other thing?"
"The other thing," I said, "involves medicine. I've been trying to create potions that can cure cancer and heart disease."
Hermione looked up at me sharply. While Dumbledore appeared thoughtful, the others seemed confused.
"We already have such potions," said Madame Maxime.
"We wizards do," I emphasized. "The rest of the world doesn't. Tens of millions of people suffer from these diseases. Millions die every year." I shook my head. "I've been trying to find combinations of non-magical plants that mimic the effects of magical herbs. That way, we can distribute these mundane potions worldwide without risking a breach of the Statute of Secrecy."
"Why would you care so much about Muggles?" Karkaroff said disinterestedly.
I fixed him with an expressionless look. "People," I corrected. "I care about people. I don't see the world divided between Magicals and Muggles. I classify people based on their actions. But I understand," I added with a humorless smile, "as a… reformed Death Eater, such ideology might be difficult for you to consider."
Karkaroff's expression turned positively murderous, while the other adults at the table seemed almost amused. Indeed, Crouch looked as though he might crack his first smile of the evening.
"I would be careful if I were you, Mr. Carter," Karkaroff said with a thin, false smile. "Baseless accusations often end up doing more harm than good."
I smiled. "Wasn't it just a few months ago that a number of other ex–Death Eaters—like yourself—ended up getting vaporized when they started acting out?" I took a sip from my glass. "Seems like it's you who should be careful, Mr. Karkaroff."
The silence at the table was sharp enough to cut glass.
At length, Dumbledore said, "Well, this is shaping up to be a wonderful evening." He raised his glass. "To the champions."
I raised mine as well. "And to friendships—old and new."
Glasses were lifted, and a chorus of agreement followed.
"To the champions."
"To friendship."