A Professor of Magic at Hogwarts - Chapter 416: The Ball

The hall buzzed with chatter.

The walls shimmered with sparkling silver frost, while the ceiling portrayed a dazzling night sky showering them with snowflakes that disappeared just before reaching their heads.

Hundreds of fairies danced high above, showering colorful confetti down upon them.

Felix stood at the entrance, surveying the scene. The house tables were gone, replaced by numerous small tables adorned with lanterns, each table surrounded by ten or so students.

At the front of the hall sat a long rectangular platform with judges for the competition. On either side of the platform were two teacher tables for Hogwarts professors and other guests who had traveled from afar.

In front of the platform and the teacher tables were two spacious round tables reserved for the champions.

Bagman and Percy walked up to the platform while Felix settled at one of the teacher tables, sitting between Professor Snape and McGonagall. Snape wore his usual black robes while McGonagall donned a red checkered gown adorned with a wreath of thistles on her hat.

“McGonagall, a rare sight,” Felix teased. “Severus remains unchanged…”

Snape scrutinized Felix, watching him curiously flip through a small menu on the table. Slowly, he remarked, “I don’t recall you ever learning to dance during your schooling. Perhaps you could join me later for a tour of the castle?”

“Oh, don’t be a killjoy,” Professor McGonagall chimed in.

Felix flipped the menu to its back, eyeing a line of dessert names. “No problem, but I want to try this,” he pointed to a row of small words.

“Euphemia?” Snape glanced and remarked, “Too sweet.”

“A well-named dish,” Felix chuckled.

After a few minutes, Professor McGonagall stood up. “I need to organize the champions’ entrance,” she adjusted her pointed hat and headed briskly toward a corner of the hall.

Near the entrance of the hall, the champions and their partners stood together as McGonagall briefed them on the entrance procedures. “Wait a bit longer until the hall is nearly filled, then proceed in pairs. Champions and partners, walk through the left aisle across the hall and finally turn to sit at the large round table on the right side of the platform. Understand?”

At that moment, Harry and Ron hurried into the hall. Ron finally managed to change into his new robes in the lavatory. They rushed towards the platform.

“Over here! Potter, Weasley,” McGonagall called out loudly.

Harry and Ron froze in their tracks, awkwardly turned their heads, facing the stern-looking McGonagall and the clustered champions, who, in turn, were all gazing at them. Valgadu, a robust champion, stood considerably taller than Krum, while Nona Leberth, equally tall, stood gracefully on the other side.

Harry and Ron turned and retraced their steps. As they passed Draco Malfoy, he shouted, “Potter, Weasley, practicing your dance moves?”

His partner, Pansy Parkinson, elicited a chorus of mocking “tsk tsks.”

Harry glared at them. Draco, dressed in a high-necked black velvet robe, resembled a rural parish priest, a fact that Harry silently scorned. Both boys reached the end of the champions’ queue, where the Patil sisters stood, arms crossed, looking displeased at Harry and Ron.

McGonagall strode over, speaking quickly, “Get in line, you two! No, not together,” she looked exasperatedly at Harry and Ron. “Stand side by side with your partners, for Merlin’s sake, do you not understand what ‘partners’ mean?”

She stepped forward, separating Harry and Ron and then hesitated, looking at the Patil sisters. Uncertain, she ordered, “Stand next to your partners, ladies. A bit of coordination is needed… Honestly, it’s a bit late to say this now.”

McGonagall quickly moved back to the front of the line, and they could barely hear her faint voice, “Mr. Elephendi… please step back a bit; you’re too close to Mr. Krum. Mr. Krum, where is your partner?”

“She’s on her way,” Krum replied in a low voice.

McGonagall appeared displeased. “Are you sure she won’t miss the time? I could find a substitute if needed…”

“No need, thank you,” Krum replied, his expression grim.

Harry and Ron peered at the front of the line. Ron, incredulous, murmured, “Can you believe it? Krum doesn’t have a partner! He’s a big star, who’d stand him up? Oh, Merlin, Harry, help me out here…”

He crouched slightly behind Harry, trying to hide because Fleur Delacour was looking their way. She was clad in a silver-grey satin robe, looking stunning. Beside her was a tall, handsome boy. Harry vaguely remembered him as the Slytherin seventh-year and the head of their house.

Once Fleur turned away, Ron straightened up.

“Can’t blame you, she is quite beautiful,” Harry remarked fairly. A few days earlier, when Fleur invited Cedric in the entrance hall, Ron had been utterly captivated and had awkwardly approached her, only to meet with inevitable failure.

Since then, Ron had been avoiding her, still not over the embarrassment.

At that moment, a beautiful girl in a flowing pale lilac-blue robe entered the hall, gliding past Harry and Ron. She went to stand beside Krum, speaking hurriedly, seemingly apologizing for her lateness. However, they were at the back of the line, making it difficult for Harry and Ron to hear her voice clearly over the front positions.

“Oh, sorry, Krum… I was ready hours ago… but… sniff… as a return gesture, I also didn’t expect… too surprising…”

“Sniff? Are you talking about the magical creature that digs holes in the ground for coins? It sent you a gift?” Krum’s deep voice was distinctive enough to reach Harry and Ron’s ears.

“Valen doesn’t dig in the ground! Oh, Valen is her name… Yes, she did send me a gift… I suppose it’s because I sent her a Christmas present first… perhaps Professor Hagrid helped pick it out…” the girl explained.

Harry and Ron exchanged puzzled looks.

“The voice sounds familiar,” Harry said uncertainly.

“She mentioned Valen sending her a Christmas gift, is that possible?” Ron hesitated, looking at Harry.

“If I heard correctly, she sent the first gift… Valen just replied… wait a minute, I think I’ve got it…” Harry’s speech slowed down, his gaze shifting from the girl in the elegant robe to Ron.

The two stared at each other for a moment, then exclaimed in unison, utterly surprised, “Hermione?” The guess was unbelievable; they couldn’t believe that the stunning girl a dozen feet away was their most familiar person.

Harry stared at her back; she didn’t look like Hermione at all. But if it was true, she must have done something to her hair; it was no longer unruly but smooth and glossy, tied elegantly at the back.

At that moment, McGonagall approached the front of the line, addressing

the audience in a loud voice, “Ladies and gentlemen, esteemed guests, without further ado, let us welcome the champions of the Triwizard Tournament!”

The crowd erupted in applause as the champions began their slow procession through the hall, heading towards the platform and their designated table. Amidst the applause, Hermione, standing beside Krum, tried to smile back at the cheering crowd, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

Ron and Harry stood agape, watching their friend Hermione, looking completely transformed, walk past them, only to take her place beside Viktor Krum at the champions’ table.

The crisp sound of forks tapping against glass cut through the chaotic hall, landing precisely in everyone’s ears as all eyes turned towards Dumbledore at the head table.

“Ladies and gentlemen, please rise. I need to clear the tables for the dance floor,” he said, smiling warmly.

With a wave of his wand, tables zoomed to the walls, leaving a clear space in the middle. Students joined their partners. Harry noticed Parvati’s arm looped around his and discreetly tried to free himself, but to no avail.

Dumbledore then conjured a long stage against the right wall of the hall, adorned with a drum set, guitars, a lute, a cello, and several organs.

The lights around the hall dimmed, leaving the dance floor brightly lit.

“Students, professors, esteemed guests—enjoy the wonderful music!” Dumbledore spread his arms joyously. At that moment, the quirky sisters rushed onto the stage, eliciting thunderous applause from the audience.

With his seat near the steps, Felix felt fortunate not to be in the moving zone. He sat comfortably, intrigued by the eccentrically dressed musicians starting their performance.

Flipping through the menu, he landed on the last page. “Euplera,” he enunciated clearly.

In an instant, a delightful chocolate and coffee frosted cake appeared before him. He lifted his fork, only to catch a stern gaze.

“You know what you should be doing now?” Professor McGonagall pursed her lips.

Felix hesitated, scanning the surroundings. “Oh…” He stood and slightly bowed, politely asking, “May I have the honor of this dance, ma’am?”

“Of course,” McGonagall smiled, extending her hand. “Drop the fork, Felix,” she whispered.

They headed towards the dance floor.

At that moment, Felix’s thoughts raced. The hall’s activities slowed down in his mind—Dumbledore holding Madame Maxime’s hand, his pointed hat almost touching her chin; Mad-Eye Moody dragging Professor Sinistra, her expression resembling an unfortunate arrested dark wizard; even seeing Ludovic Bagman struggling to invite Professor Sprout while bending his belly…

He pushed his thoughts into overdrive, capturing every detail happening in the hall. Basic positions, steps, hand movements, synchronizing with the beat… By the time he completed the dozen or so steps from the faculty table to the dance floor, he transformed from a novice to a dancing prodigy.

“Waltz, Milova?” Felix asked, flicking away a misfortunate fairy that stumbled onto a stiff Harry’s shoulder from the ceiling.

“Of course,” McGonagall replied.

They danced gracefully, Felix absorbing the essence of everyone’s moves. Surprisingly, Dumbledore turned out to be the best dancer.

Indeed, age seemed to hold an advantage. Felix pondered this peculiar notion.

A few minutes later, the dance concluded. McGonagall smiled, “You can dance! I thought this might be unfamiliar territory for you.”

Felix wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead discreetly. “I haven’t had much practice before.” He glanced towards where Snape had been, but his black robe had vanished.

The quirky sisters in the corner struck up another lively tune. “Continue?” he politely asked, catching Hagrid swiftly swallowing his Euplera cake and nervously glancing at Madame Maxime, who had moved away from Dumbledore.

McGonagall chuckled, “Seems you’re quite unfamiliar. You can’t spend the whole dance with one person; there are many lovely ladies waiting.”

“What?”

McGonagall stepped back as a beautiful girl suddenly appeared. “Professor Harp?” Hermione blinked, looking at him expectantly, so Felix offered his hand, gesturing an invitation, and Hermione gladly accepted.

The style of the music changed completely, forcing Felix to go into overdrive again, trying to match everyone else’s moves. Seconds later, he expertly led Hermione in a joyful spin around the dance floor, leaving a long, graceful trail.

As the song ended, Hermione blushed. She tiptoed, whispering, “You’re really good at this, and thank you for saving me.” Her lips lightly touched Felix’s cheek before she floated away.

Raising his head, Felix found Fleur standing before him. “Are you good with this tune?” she teased. By now, the quirky sisters’ performance had turned into a livelier polka.

“Of course,” Felix replied.

After exchanging partners several times, Felix found himself facing Hermione.

“Oh, Professor, I saw you dancing so wonderfully on the side,” she said.

“Thank you, not the only one saying so.”

Felix counted down the sisters’ new song in his mind. When the music began, he heaved a sigh of relief, finally completing a round without having to accelerate his thoughts.

He strolled and spun elegantly in the dance floor, confident and poised.

By the edge of the dance floor, Seamus and Dean sat at a table, enjoying desserts. Seamus exclaimed, “I didn’t expect Professor Harp to excel in so many dance styles… He must have stayed on the floor the longest, right?”

“Yeah, how did he manage that?” Dean was equally surprised.

“And who was the girl he danced with? Beauxbatons or Durmstrang student?” Seamus squinted.

“What? She’s Hermione!” Dean retorted loudly.

Seamus stared at Dean, who nodded towards the dance floor. “Look at her prominent teeth, it’s obvious…”

In the center of the dance floor,

Hermione bit her lip, softly asking, “Do you know Valen gave me a Christmas present?”

“I do,” Felix replied.

“Was that your idea?” Hermione asked sharply.

“Of course not,” Felix didn’t quite understand her tone, explaining, “I was unwrapping gifts all day, replying to letters, and it wasn’t until almost evening that I realized you had prepared a gift for Valen. She was overjoyed because no one else but me remembered to give her a present, so she sent one in return…”

“But the gift is too precious!” Hermione exclaimed.

“Precious?” Felix chuckled. “No, Granger, it’s just a keepsake. I researched; it’s beyond repair.”

“Is that so…” Hermione pondered, looking down.

At that moment, the ring on Felix’s left hand buzzed. He frowned.

“What’s wrong, Professor?” Hermione asked cautiously.

“Someone wants to contact me,” Felix said calmly. As the music reached its final notes, Felix led Hermione to finish the last pose and left the floor with her.

Someone approached, eager. “Sorry,” Felix politely declined.

He nodded at Hermione and hurried away, clutching a copper Knut between his fingers. Paired with the one he gave Dobby, whenever Dobby intended to report, he injected magic into it to notify Felix in advance.

But this time, the coin felt unusually hot, almost melting.

Felix swiftly exited the hall, finding himself in the courtyard, away from the hustle and bustle. “Psst!” A soft sound. Dobby suddenly appeared, looking highly agitated, his big eyes filled with fear.

Most importantly, he carried a collapsed house-elf.

After ensuring Dobby was okay, Felix squatted, assessing the house-elf Dobby brought. By his estimation, this was a female house-elf.

“What happened, Dobby?” he asked softly.

“D-Dobby doesn’t know! D-Dobby just wanted to invite friends for Christmas. Dobby knew Winky has a master, so he specifically picked a very late time; they should’ve all been asleep. Dobby knew her master isn’t feeling well…”

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