On Christmas Day itself, Harry deliberately got up early.
The most important day of the year was none other than Christmas.
On this day, everyone could receive gifts from family and friends.
The moment he opened his eyes, he saw Ron sitting at the foot of the bed, tearing open packages.
"You're awake?" Ron said excitedly, chewing on a fizzing whizzbee. "Come on, take a look at your gifts. Merlin's fattest underpants, there are so many they're practically piling up the whole dormitory..."
"So many?" Harry scratched his head in confusion, still not fully awake.
They had stayed up far too late the night before. Veratia and Cassandra, those two grown women, had gone at it like they were in a contest, drinking themselves senseless in the office.
Poppy didn't drink, and the two girls couldn't be bothered to persuade her. They just stared each other down, neither willing to drink a drop less than the other.
It didn't end until half past one, and in fact, there was no clear winner. Cassandra's little face was slightly flushed, but she was still full of energy. Veratia was the type who could drink a thousand cups without getting drunk. The two were truly evenly matched, rivals in every sense, and they agreed to rematch another day before calling it quits.
After all, there was the ball the next day. They couldn't very well fight to the point of mutual destruction and let Poppy swoop in for the easy win, could they?
Poppy: Actually, that wouldn't be so bad.
"Isn't that right... Wow, Harry—" Ron opened the gift Harry had given him—a Chudley Cannons hat. "This is awesome!" He jammed it haphazardly onto his head, where it immediately clashed fiercely with his hair.
"Haha." Harry chuckled, yawned, and got out of bed to rummage through his own Christmas gifts.
Hermione had given Harry a book called Quidditch Teams of Britain and Ireland; Ron had given him a bag bulging with dungbombs; Sirius's new gift was a lightweight penknife that came with gadgets for unlocking any lock and untying any knot; Hagrid had sent a huge box of sweets, every flavor Harry loved: Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, chocolate frogs, Drooble's Best Blowing Gum, fizzing whizzbees. And of course, as always, Mrs. Weasley had sent a package with a new sweater—this one green, with a dragon pattern on it. Harry guessed Charlie had told her all about the tree bees—as well as a pile of homemade mince pies.
What Harry hadn't expected was that the Dursleys' gift this year was a bit different—a key, along with a letter.
It was from Uncle Vernon, saying roughly that he'd bought him the latest Bentley Continental as thanks for his support in Vernon's work over the past two years.
Tit for tat, and Harry was pretty pleased about it.
Veratia's gift to him was a set of robes, while Poppy had given him some materials harvested from magical creatures—clearly not very thoughtful.
As for Cassandra, she simply hadn't given him any Christmas gift at all.
Harry threw on the sweater haphazardly and called Ron, who was still counting his gifts, to meet Hermione in the common room before heading down to breakfast together.
"Want to have a snowball fight?" the Weasley twins asked.
Harry looked up, searching for Cassandra and Veratia, but he scanned every corner and couldn't spot either of them.
"No thanks," Ron said, rubbing his face. "I'd rather wrestle a dragon than have a snowball fight with you two—I still remember how in first year you pelted snowballs at the back of Quirrell's head... Merlin's most disgusting socks, I can't even imagine what you were thinking, throwing snowballs right at You-Know-Who's face..."
"In a way, our pranks finally found their true calling," the twins said with a grin.
After politely declining the twins' invitation, Harry returned with them to the Gryffindor tower to continue sorting through the gifts.
In fact, that's what all the students were doing. If they weren't starving and in need of breakfast, they wouldn't have come to the Great Hall at all.
During the meal, it was obvious how distracted everyone was, their minds fixed on when they could finish breakfast and get back to organizing their presents.
Around noon, Veratia arrived at the entrance to the Gryffindor common room.
"Lumos Maxima," she said.
The Fat Lady eyed Veratia suspiciously—she was dressed like a sharp-witted barrister queen—but let her through anyway.
"That's right," she said, continuing to eat her chocolate liqueurs with her friends.
Veratia made her way easily to Harry's dormitory, deliberately choosing a moment when Ron and the others were out. She caught Harry napping in the room.
He'd stayed up way too late the night before; if he didn't catch a quick nap, he was afraid he'd fall asleep while dancing.
As he dozed, Harry suddenly felt like he was being wrapped up by a beautiful serpent, unable to move.
He jolted awake and found himself face-to-face with that stunning visage.
It was Veratia.
"How did you just come in here?" he exclaimed. "This is the boys' dormitory, Veratia..."
"What?" Veratia asked with a mischievous smile. "Am I not allowed? Or is there some school rule about it?"
"Oh, no, that's not it," Harry said. "Boys get expelled for entering the girls' dormitory; girls enter the boys' at their own risk—wait, where are Ron and the others?"
"I used a harmless little spell. They're all out—something about going to have a snowball fight with those Weasley copycats." Veratia said it casually, as if it had nothing to do with her. "Otherwise, do you think I'd come into your dormitory, you little rascal?"
Harry opened his mouth. Yeah, that sounded exactly like something Veratia would do.
He didn't bother asking what spell she'd used; it wouldn't harm his mates anyway. He trusted Veratia had that much sense.
"I got your gift," Harry said. "I really like it—that robe fits perfectly... There are a few ancient runes on it too. I think I'd better not wear it when you're angry..."
Caught off guard, Veratia's cheeks flushed pink.
Of course she'd tampered with the robe a bit, but it wasn't intentional—she'd just done it subconsciously.
Out of habit.
"I just saw that portrait of yours in Gryffindor—the Fat Lady, right?" Veratia changed the subject. "There were empty chocolate liqueur boxes scattered all over her painting, and her face was all rosy. She's probably drunk..."
"That's just how she is; you'll get used to it," Harry said, rolling out of bed. He didn't sleep naked, but he was in pajamas anyway.
As soon as he pulled off his pajama top, Veratia pressed herself against his rather sturdy chest.
"What's up?" Harry asked.
"Want to do it here?" Veratia whispered in his ear. "I think now's a perfect time... My office is being watched by Kes; we have zero chance of getting back there. How about right here? What do you think?"
Harry's breathing instantly grew heavy. He had to admit, the idea was tempting—it hit him right where it counted.
"This isn't a good idea, is it?" He still held back a little, thinking about how someone could return any minute. "What if someone comes back suddenly? If the professors catch us in the act..."
"They won't," Veratia said, flicking out a burst of ancient magic energy that sealed the dormitory door completely. "Unless whoever wants in has ancient magic heritage like us, there's no way they'll even find the door... Come on, time's precious. Let's get started?"
Harry felt a chill on his legs as his pants were yanked down.
"This..." Harry still hesitated.
But hesitate as he might, when it came to instincts, Harry had it under control.
A little after four, Veratia left Harry's dormitory, thoroughly satisfied.
Not long after, Ron, Seamus, and the others returned to the room together.
"That was a blast," Ron said with a grin. "I nailed George with a bunch of snowballs. You should've seen his face—Merlin, it was priceless, right?"
"If we could pelt those two every day, how great would that be?" Neville said excitedly. "I'm always the one getting pranked; today I finally got my revenge—we should thank Harry for teaching us that magic."
At that, Neville waved to Harry: "Harry, you're awake... Wait, what's that smell?"
"Oh, nothing," Harry deflected. "You guys went to the snowball fight?"
"Yeah," Neville said, sniffing the air. "Why does it smell kinda fragrant? Did you spray cologne, Harry?"
"Oh, my dance partner just came by," Harry said honestly. "Snuck into the dormitory. You don't mind, do you?"
Mind?
The only one who could barge straight into the Gryffindor dormitory like that was that terrifying transfer student, the one with the last name Grindelwald.
No way they dared mind.
"No problem," Seamus said quickly. "We don't mind at all... But there's only three hours until the ball starts. No food tonight until then... Got anything to tide us over? I'm starving after that snowball fight."
"Yeah," Ron said, pulling out the Christmas gift his mom had sent from under his bed. "Mum sent mince pies, sandwiches, and sausages. I can break off some if you want."
"Break me off some, break me off some," Seamus said, leaning in. "Looks delicious—if you don't mind sharing your mum's love with us."
"How could I?" Ron laughed. "Mum would be thrilled if she knew everyone likes her cooking—here, this piece for you, and some sausage... I think we should heat these pies with a spell. What do you think? They're not as good cold."
Harry was hungry too; he'd just burned a ton of energy. As a professional-level Quidditch player, his stamina held up, but exercise was exercise—it required refueling.
The energy he'd expended had to be replenished with food.
The group gathered around the fire in the dormitory, toasting pies and sausages while chatting and laughing.
By a little after seven, they changed into their dress robes in the dormitory, each looking awkward and fidgety—except for Harry, of course.
Fortunately, Ron's dress robes weren't the frilly ones Mrs. Weasley had made before; he'd picked these himself.
It had to be said, the lads in this dormitory looked pretty sharp.
The common room looked strange, no longer filled with uniform black robes but a riot of colorful dress robes.
"Harry, Harry?"
It was Colin Creevey calling him, camera aimed at Harry: "Smile for me? Give me a grin— Hey, where's your partner? Harry? Who is she? Is it Malfoy's sister from Slytherin? Or Sweating from Hufflepuff? Is Miss Grindelwald not coming this year?"
Harry thought: Miss Grindelwald not coming? She just fled Gryffindor with billions in tow...
"I have a partner," he said with a reserved smile. "You'll find out who it is once the ball officially starts."
"Who is it exactly?" Ron asked in a low voice nearby.
"Guess?" Harry countered.
"Miss Grindelwald?" Ron asked.
"Yeah, that's right," Harry nodded. After all, she really was his dance partner.
"I knew it had to be her," Ron laughed heartily. "See how well I know you... I know she's your favorite girl."
After hanging out in the common room a bit, everyone filed out, heading to the Great Hall for the Christmas ball.
It was their first time at this kind of dance; some were thrilled, whispering and chattering with classmates the whole way, never shutting up.
Ron, though... Ron was distracted, trying to figure out where his partner was.
He'd asked around several times, and the answer was always that Hermione wasn't there.
As Harry climbed out of the portrait hole, he ran into Fred, who winked at him mischievously.
The entrance hall was packed with students milling about, waiting for eight o'clock when the Great Hall doors would open. Some were meeting partners from other houses, sidling through the crowd to find them.
The moment Harry reached the entrance hall, Fleur Delacour approached.
She wore a silver-gray satin gown, stunningly beautiful, accompanied by Roger Davies, the Ravenclaw Quidditch team captain.
Roger Davies had a smug look, clearly saying— Look how gorgeous my partner is.
As he passed Harry, Roger even flashed a provocative smile at his old Quidditch rival.
"He's provoking you," Ron muttered. "This Davies... So what if he got the veela-blooded girl as his partner? Look at him strutting around like he's actually dating Miss Delacour."
Harry was distracted too, now standing on tiptoe, peering around for his three partners.
What would these three girls... look like all dressed up?
Harry was really looking forward to it...
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