Night fell.
Harry and Neville were waiting outside the entrance to the Gryffindor girls' dormitory.
Since Professor Slughorn's invitation had clearly stated that this gathering was a formal and serious event, both Harry and Neville had changed into their most proper dress robes.
Unfortunately, no matter how formal the clothes were, they couldn't change Harry's restless nature.
If anything, the tight dress robes only made him feel even more agitated.
He kept tugging at his collar while pacing back and forth in front of the dormitory entrance.
"Hermione, are you done yet?"
At last, he stopped walking and shouted impatiently toward the entrance.
Regrettably, no reply came.
Neville shook his head and said calmly, "Be patient, Harry. Ladies always take longer getting ready than we do."
"I know, but this is taking way too long! Do you realize we've been standing here for over an hour already?" Harry complained, shaking his head.
"And honestly, this isn't Hermione's fault. It's Professor Slughorn's problem. I seriously don't get why he waited until the last minute to send Hermione her invitation."
"It's like he never wanted to invite her in the first place, but then dragged her in at the end just to make up the numbers!"
By the time he finished speaking, Harry's expression had turned rather strange.
Because he genuinely thought that was exactly what Slughorn had done.
After all, everyone knew how utilitarian Professor Slughorn was. Hermione didn't come from some prestigious family, so it was hard to imagine she would catch his eye.
But when Neville heard that, the gentle smile on his face vanished instantly. He widened his eyes and snapped, "Stop it, Harry! How can you say something like that about Hermione? That's incredibly rude!"
"Exactly. That was incredibly rude."
Hermione's voice suddenly came from behind them.
The two turned around to see Hermione slowly walking out from the girls' dormitory entrance.
She first gave Neville a soft smile, then shot Harry a fierce glare.
Harry curled his lips.
"Enough talking already. We're going to be late."
After saying that, he strode off toward the common room exit without even looking back.
Behind him, Hermione and Neville exchanged helpless looks before following after him.
The banquet was being held in the Potions classroom they had visited earlier that day.
Accompanied by their classmates' teasing laughter and envious stares, the three of them jogged all the way there.
Panting heavily, they pushed open the classroom doors, only to discover that the Potions classroom had been completely transformed.
The densely packed potion worktables had all disappeared.
In their place stood an enormous banquet table covered with exquisite food and delicacies, along with a small crystal tower made of stacked goblets.
Deep crimson wine flowed through the glasses, reflecting together with the crystal surfaces beneath the magical chandeliers overhead, making the entire room glitter brilliantly.
Harry was so nervous he could barely speak.
Even though Professor Slughorn had repeatedly emphasized in his invitation that this was a proper, genuine, banquet-level gathering, Harry still hadn't expected him to completely remodel the Potions classroom into something resembling a miniature ballroom in such a short time.
More importantly, there were already quite a few people inside.
Blaise Zabini, Cormac McLaggen, Ernie Macmillan, along with several other Slytherins and Ravenclaws, had all apparently arrived already.
Which seemed to mean they were late.
At the same time, everyone in the room noticed their arrival.
Slughorn stepped down from the platform. He first greeted Harry and Neville enthusiastically, then turned to Hermione with a smile.
"Miss Granger, welcome."
"Thank you for inviting me, Professor Slughorn. I'm truly honored."
Hermione awkwardly performed a curtsy.
"Haha! Don't say that, Miss Granger!" Slughorn laughed heartily. "Your talent has already won over everyone present here. We're the ones who should feel honored! Come now, enjoy the evening!"
Slughorn led the three of them into the crowd. After chatting with them for a while longer, he returned to the platform.
Harry noticed keenly that the position faced directly toward the classroom entrance. Slughorn seemed to have deliberately chosen that spot so he could greet guests the moment they arrived.
That discovery eased Harry slightly. At the very least, Slughorn did seem to value them and hadn't looked down on Hermione because of her background.
"Hey, Harry, those robes look pretty good."
At some point, Ernie had squeezed himself between Harry and Neville, waggling his eyebrows at Harry as he spoke.
Instinctively, Harry lowered his head to look at his robes.
In terms of cut, they were actually fairly standard classical fitted dress robes.
But unlike the usual dull formal colors, these robes were made of bright scarlet silk and covered all over with daisy patterns.
They were flashy beyond belief.
Harry opened his mouth, about to say something, but Professor Slughorn, who had overheard the conversation from the platform, chimed in as well.
"Indeed. That outfit reminds me of a certain troublemaker I once taught!"
"In that case," Ernie grinned, "I'm guessing that troublemaker's surname was Black?"
The moment he finished speaking, both Ernie and Slughorn burst into laughter.
Slughorn laughed especially hard.
Clearly, Ernie's response had struck exactly the right note for him.
He genuinely thought highly of Ernie. While Ernie's talent in Potions and other subjects wasn't particularly exceptional, his personality and emotional intelligence were outstanding.
From Slughorn's experience, those qualities alone, combined with Ernie's pure-blood status, would be enough to ensure he had a very successful future.
Meanwhile, Harry could only shake his head awkwardly as he watched the two laughing.
He really couldn't refute their good-natured teasing.
Because the dress robes he was wearing had indeed been prepared for him by Sirius Black.
He had over a dozen similar outfits, all in Sirius Black's flamboyant style.
In fact, the set Harry was currently wearing was already the most low-key among them.
Fortunately, Slughorn clearly had no intention of embarrassing Harry too badly. After laughing for a while, he turned toward Neville and said, "Our young Neville's robes are excellent as well. If I remember correctly, these once belonged to your father, didn't they?"
"That's right, Professor Slughorn. These are the robes my father wore when he married my mother. They carry special meaning for me."
Only then did Harry take a closer look at Neville's clothes.
It was an earth-toned suit.
Although it hadn't been tailored specifically for Neville, it fit him surprisingly well. The overall look gave off a broad, gentle, refined feeling that made him seem very comforting and approachable.
"It suits you perfectly," Slughorn praised. "Looking at you now, I can almost see your father. The same courage, the same kindness and elegance. I firmly believe you'll become a hero just like him."
Neville nodded excitedly at those words.
Then Slughorn's gaze shifted toward Hermione, as though intending to continue the topic of attire with her as well.
Yet after studying her for quite some time, he ultimately said nothing.
Because although Hermione had finally smoothed out her hair, the dress she wore was only a very ordinary periwinkle-blue gown.
Faint wrinkles could still be seen on it, the result of long storage without proper transformation-grade maintenance.
There really wasn't much to compliment about a dress like that.
Besides, Hermione's status wasn't enough for Slughorn to blatantly lie through his teeth.
Shaking his head lightly, Slughorn prepared to end the topic entirely.
Unfortunately, not everyone possessed high emotional intelligence, nor could everyone read the atmosphere.
Zabini was obviously one of those people.
He had already been standing nearby observing Slughorn's conversation with Harry's group from the very beginning.
Now, after noticing Slughorn's expression, his eyes suddenly turned, as if a thought had occurred to him. He stepped out from the crowd and said,
"Well, well! Look at what our know-it-all Miss Granger is wearing. Is that your mother's old dress or something?"
"Though I doubt your mother ever had any achievements worth praising. After all, aren't you just a plain Muggle-born?"
Hermione's eyes sharpened.
"No, this is not my mother's dress! And Zabini, I warn you, you..."
"Oh right! I remember now!" Zabini interrupted.
"This is the dress you wore at the Triwizard Tournament Ball! No wonder it looked familiar. But honestly, wearing such a cheap old dress to Professor Slughorn's gathering, isn't that a little disrespectful?"
The moment Zabini said that, the other Slytherins behind him burst into laughter.
The Ravenclaws didn't laugh as openly, but the looks they gave Hermione were just as mocking and disdainful.
Generally speaking, formal wear wasn't supposed to be reused at important events.
The rule was supposedly inherited from King Louis XIV of France.
Not only did he hold banquets every day, but he also required his nobles to attend in full formal dress, and the clothes absolutely could not be old outfits that had already been worn before.
Anyone who violated the rule would face severe punishment.
For example, having their title stripped away.
The reason Louis XIV did this was largely to drain the nobles' money. A brand-new fashionable evening outfit was absurdly expensive.
That way, after maintaining this so-called "royal prestige" for long enough, the great nobles would probably no longer have the money to rebel.
The lesser nobles had it even worse.
Their finances simply couldn't sustain it for very long.
So some lost their titles, while others went bankrupt.
And just like that, Louis XIV achieved his goal of weakening the nobility.
To be fair, while the whole method looked brainless and ridiculous, it really did work quite well.
Yet this politically motivated trick somehow became treasured doctrine among British nobles obsessed with the luxurious lifestyle of Versailles.
By the time the British king of that era realized what was happening, his own nobles had already begun voluntarily following Louis XIV's dress rules.
Even today, old-fashioned British high society, along with certain wizarding families heavily influenced by Muggle upper-class culture, still followed this unspoken convention.
Under those rules, someone like Neville wearing his "heroic father's" old formal clothes was acceptable.
But Hermione's situation was not.
Hermione clearly knew something about the rule as well, and her expression now looked utterly miserable.
She wanted to argue back, yet couldn't say a single word.
All she could do was lower her head.
Harry, Neville, and the others didn't look pleased either.
Even Slughorn was frowning deeply.
And at that moment, the classroom doors opened once more.
"Oh, I hope we're not late, Professor Slughorn."
Link and Emily entered the classroom arm in arm.
"Link? And Emily?"
Slughorn's eyes lit up. He hurried forward and clasped Link's hands enthusiastically.
"Of course not late. If anything, your timing couldn't be more perfect!"
"That's good. Very good."
Link smiled as he spoke.
The moment he and Emily appeared, everyone's attention in the room shifted toward them. The students had already gathered around them, while Zabini practically shoved his way to the very front of the crowd.
"Oh, Merlin! Mr. Flamel, Miss Victoria, your taste in fashion is absolutely incredible! Those two outfits couldn't suit you better! I'm so moved I could cry!"
As he spoke, Zabini even pretended to wipe tears from the corners of his eyes.
Emily let out a soft laugh, though it was hard to tell whether she found it amusing or irritating.
The other students nearby were equally speechless.
Shameless people like Zabini were honestly rare.
It probably had a lot to do with his black widow of a mother. Zabini had clearly inherited all her finest traits.
Still, despite silently mocking him, the others quickly recovered and eagerly joined Zabini in showering Link and Emily with praise.
For a while, compliments flowed endlessly, and the arrival of Link and Emily instantly pushed the atmosphere of the gathering to a whole new level.
Faced with all of this, both Link and Emily appeared perfectly natural.
They handled every compliment with practiced ease, polite, standardized smiles never leaving their faces.
Only after the excitement finally settled down did Link turn back toward Harry and Neville.
"When I came in, I saw all of you gathered together. What were you talking about?"
Harry and Ernie had already wanted to complain earlier, but the crowd fawning over Link had been far too enthusiastic for them to get a word in.
Now that Link had brought it up himself, Ernie immediately stepped forward.
"What else could it be? Our dear Mr. Zabini seems extremely dissatisfied with Hermione's clothing."
"He thinks wearing old dress robes to a gathering is an insult to everyone present and lowers the standard of Professor Slughorn's entire party!"
Link looked over Hermione's outfit, surprise and concern visible in his eyes.
Hermione hadn't felt particularly affected before.
After living at Hogwarts for so many years, she was already used to all kinds of attacks aimed at her Muggle blood.
But now, under Link's gaze, an overwhelming sense of grievance suddenly surged up from deep inside her.
Her nose stung sharply, and in an instant her vision blurred from the tears flooding her eyes.
Hermione hurriedly lowered her head and covered her face, but it was already too late.
Her emotions burst out like a reservoir with broken floodgates. Soon tears streamed down uncontrollably, soaking her dress.
Seeing that, Link raised an eyebrow.
Instead of looking at Zabini immediately, he first turned toward Slughorn.
As the host of the gathering, Slughorn naturally couldn't avoid responsibility for something like this happening.
Slughorn was equally straightforward. Spreading his hands, he said, "I was just about to deal with it when you arrived."
Link nodded in understanding before finally turning toward Zabini.
Under Link's cold stare, Zabini felt enormous pressure pressing down on him. He also realized the situation was turning bad.
He had heard that Hermione and Link seemed fairly close.
But even so, Zabini still clung to a bit of hope.
After all, his relationship with Link wasn't bad either.
Back on the Hogwarts Express, Link had personally complimented his name.
With that connection between them, maybe he still wouldn't lose.
Thinking that, Zabini forced out a flattering smile and said, "Honorable Mr. Flamel, I was only speaking the truth! Wearing old formal clothes to a banquet is extremely disrespectful. I'm sure everyone present agrees with me."
The moment he said that, the surrounding Slytherins and Ravenclaws all glared at him furiously.
Anyone with a functioning brain could tell Link was very angry right now, yet Zabini was still trying to drag all of them down with him.
"Oh? Is that so?", Link said expressionlessly.
"Then the clothes Emily and I are wearing tonight are also old outfits we wore at last year's year-end banquet. Weren't you praising them quite enthusiastically just now?"
"What?"
Zabini cried out in disbelief.
He truly hadn't expected Link to show up wearing old clothes too.
Given the current power and status of the Flamel family, that simply shouldn't have been possible.
At the same time, Harry, Neville, and the others looked at Zabini with growing contempt.
When the same thing involved Hermione, he attacked her relentlessly.
But when it came to Link, he shamelessly praised him instead.
At this point, it clearly wasn't about the issue anymore.
It was entirely about the person.
'What a disgusting hypocrite.'
Feeling everyone's eyes on him, Zabini's dark face nearly turned pale.
Meanwhile, Link simply shook his head and gave Slughorn a look.
This is your gathering. The final decision should still be made by you as the host.
Slughorn clearly understood the meaning behind Link's gaze.
With a dark expression, he shot Zabini a cold glance and said, "My gathering has no place for a shameless person who looks down on fellow students. Get out. I don't want to see you again."