JohnnyZ
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[Castling] Chapter 64
🕑 Added 2025-03-13 04:37:58 +0000 UTCOn Christmas morning, the Great Hall was buzzing—the upper years were more lively than usual, and the overlapping chatter made it sound like someone had let a hive of overexcited bees loose. Students were unusually energetic, caught up in last-minute discussions about the Yule Ball—those who had dates were smug about it, while the unlucky ones looked on with thinly veiled jealousy. Personally? I didn’t think all the fuss was worth it.
Harry, though, looked seriously tense, his face set in a deep frown. It had finally sunk in that after tonight, he and Cho would be an official couple. The thought had been plaguing him since last night. Now, he had a real girlfriend, which meant taking her out, talking to her, spending time together—all of that. And it scared the life out of him. He was already regretting asking her out—his imagination hadn’t stretched much further than knowing the waltz and saying hello. On the other hand, the vague but exciting images in his head hadn’t disappeared, promising something—something he couldn’t quite grasp yet, but that sent a thrill through his blood. So now he looked properly stunned, especially when he and Cho made awkward eye contact over breakfast. I struggled not to laugh. Was I ever that much of an idiot? Probably. Most lads our age were.
We spent the morning opening presents, then had an all-out snowball fight after lunch, playing until sunset. Around five, though, the girls all mysteriously disappeared, giggling nervously as they rushed back to the castle to start getting ready.
“What could possibly take that long?” Dean muttered, watching Lavender hurry off with the others. “The ball’s hours away.”
“You wouldn’t get it, mate,” Seamus said, patting his shoulder in mock sympathy—before stuffing a snowball down the back of his shirt. Dean yelled and took off after him, and just like that, the battle resumed. We didn’t think about the girls or their strange rituals again until we finally made our way back inside around seven—just as Hagrid was stepping out, dressed to impress.
We fell into step with him, the others rushing ahead while I hung back slightly.
“Hagrid,” I said after a bit of small talk, dropping my voice into something more serious. “Listen. Don’t mention to Madame Maxime that you know she’s half-giant. If she’s keeping it quiet, there’s a reason.”
Hagrid looked baffled. “Why not? What’s so bad about it? My dad always said we should never be ashamed of where we come from.”
“In France, half-blood giants can’t hold powerful positions,” I explained. “She’s headmistress, which means she has to keep it quiet. Let her pretend she just had a dodgy reaction to too much Skele-Gro as a kid. And you… maybe don’t go shouting about your mum either. You know how people feel about giants. Let them think you just got cursed or drank too much Growth Potion as a baby. Trust me—it’ll make life easier.”
Hagrid hesitated. “Er… well, alright,” he mumbled, but then immediately spotted Madame Maxime and bolted after her, forgetting everything. I smirked to myself and headed into the castle.
“Bloody hell, Ron,” Seamus whistled when I walked back into the dorm, fully dressed. “You look like you belong on the cover of Witch Weekly.”
“Obviously,” I smirked, straightening my shoulders before heading for the door.
“Oi, where are you off to?” Dean called after me. “Aren’t we all going down together?”
“Can’t,” I shouted over my shoulder. “Need to check on Ginny first, then I’m off to meet Luna in the Ravenclaw common room. Forgot already?”
“Oh—right,” Dean smacked his forehead. “See you in the Hall then.”
For the record, Dean looked sharp in his black silk robes—he could’ve walked straight into Men in Black if he had a pair of sunglasses. Neville had gone for dark blue, which suited him surprisingly well, and Seamus—predictably—wore green, though a brighter shade than Harry’s and in a different cut. Honestly? The lads cleaned up well. And for once, I didn’t feel like I was getting left behind.
Seeing Ginny stopped me dead in my tracks. She looked brilliant—bright, lively, beautiful. Not a kid anymore, but a proper young woman. It was hard to believe that just last night, she’d been sobbing into my shoulder in an empty dorm. I’d expected her to squeal when she saw the dress, maybe jump up and down like she had when I got her that owl for her birthday. Instead, she froze. Her face went pale—even her freckles seemed to vanish. Then she burst into tears and threw her arms around me.
I had to haul her back into the dorm and spend a good while calming her down, practically rocking her like a kid. Not exactly the reaction I’d expected. She cried for ages, letting out every frustration she’d apparently been bottling up—one random complaint after another. The family’s bloody poverty, her nose not being as cute as Lavender’s, hating her ginger hair, wishing it were dark and curly like Angelina’s. Then she somehow circled back to Harry—not inviting her to the ball, picking Cho instead, because obviously, Harry didn’t fancy redheads. Took forever to get her to stop.
And now? You’d never know. She was glowing. And Addington was right—the dress suited her perfectly. She looked like a princess, and she knew it. Neville? Poor bloke practically vibrated when he saw her. I handed him a sip of calming draught to stop him stammering himself into oblivion. I’d been saving the little bottle for Harry—who’d been doing my head in with his nerves all morning—but, honestly? Tonight wasn’t about Harry. Tonight was mine. Luna was waiting.
And Merlin’s beard—when I saw her, I froze. She wasn’t a snowflake. She was Winter itself. She stepped forward in tiny, delicate movements, like a breath of crisp air—like frost curling over a windowpane. I had no idea how she’d done it—maybe it was charms, maybe something else—but her loose hair, her pale lashes and brows, all of it shimmered as if dusted with silver frost. I never knew white had so many shades. Her skin, pale but not ghostly. Her soft curls, glowing without fading into the background. It was like sunlight shining through a crystal—catching, bending, shifting, making it impossible to look away. She looked like she was made of ice and light, and I literally couldn’t stop staring.
“Well?” she asked softly, giving me a small smile.
I barely managed to croak out, “You look unreal.”
I offered my hand.
“Shall we, Luna?”
She beamed at me, eyes bright with trust, slipping her hand into mine.
“I’m glad you like it,” she said.
The colour of her dress made her grey-blue eyes seem deeper, and the lace trim had taken on a steely tint.
“Padma wanted to put black makeup on me,” she added thoughtfully. “Said my lashes were too white. Called me silly when I refused.”
She tilted her head.
“But really, Ron—can a snowflake have black eyelashes?”
“She just doesn’t know anything snowflakes, Luna,” I said, slowly making my way down the stairs without taking my eyes off her. “Don’t let it bother you. You look amazing—you’ll be a proper magical snowflake at this ball.”
“She was only upset because I refused,” Luna murmured, clearly troubled. “And I didn’t mean to hurt her feelings. Things always seem to get awkward with me. I don’t explain things as well as you do, and people misunderstand me.”
“Forget about it, Luna,” I said, smiling as I took a few more steps down, bringing my eyes level with hers. “Let’s just go and have fun with everyone.”
She hesitated for a second before brightening up, letting me guide her down the pine-decorated staircase.
The entrance to the Great Hall was packed. The usual sea of black Hogwarts robes had been replaced with a dazzling spectrum of colours, making it look as though there were twice as many people as usual.
Harry and Cho made a striking pair, and her black dress embroidered with green in an elegant Asian style suited her perfectly. No denying it—she was gorgeous.
No one from our group even recognised Hermione at first, not until she spoke to Lavender. Well—except me, but only because I’d known where to look. For the first time—probably for all of us lads—Hermione didn’t look like “one of the boys,” but an actual girl. And a very attractive one at that. In that dress, it was impossible not to notice the graceful, feminine figure she usually hid under her school robes. Krum certainly had, judging by the way he was sneaking admiring glances at his date.
Diggory had invited Fleur, and now he stood proudly beside her, watching as she charmed every bloke within a three-metre radius without even trying. She was practically glowing, and the effect was so strong that the Hogwarts girls around her exchanged irritated, knowing glances. Within minutes, the only people still standing near her were single lads and Diggory’s growing fan club.
The twins, as expected, had outdone themselves—both had asked Angelina, and now they were making a spectacle of it, soaking in the impressed whistles and shouts of approval. I was half-expecting them to spot me and crack some humiliating joke at my expense, but for once, they just stared at me in open-mouthed shock, glanced at each other, and said nothing. Even Malfoy, slicked back and brooding in black velvet and silver, wrinkled his nose when he saw me before quickly turning away to focus on his date—a pretty girl in pink.
Ginny, standing beside broad-shouldered Neville, looked like a delicate woodland sprite with a mischievous glint in her eye. Even the fact that Harry couldn’t take his eyes off Cho didn’t seem to bother her in the slightest.
Walking into the Great Hall with everyone else, for the first time in my years at Hogwarts, I felt a kind of calm satisfaction—like everything inside me finally matched what was on the outside.
People say clothes don’t matter, and sure, they’re not everything. But in a school full of rich kids, it was hard to ignore how much they did. No matter how smart you were, if you weren’t dressed the part, you’d always catch the occasional sneer or condescending glance, even from people who weren’t half as good as you.
But tonight?
Tonight, I felt on par—an equal.
A custom-made suit, not something off a bargain rack or even from Madam Malkin’s, but tailored for me. Gliding effortlessly across the dance floor with my stunning partner, drawing eyes as we moved. The intrigued glances from girls, the subtle, jealous ones from other blokes—I loved it. Every second of it stroked my ego in ways I hadn’t realised I’d been missing.
The evening was brilliant. After dinner and the formal dances, the live orchestra gave way to a more modern band, and the atmosphere became more relaxed. Luna was invited to dance a few times by some Durmstrang lads, and as her official date, I allowed it—but not without keeping a sharp eye on where exactly their hands were. Later, she danced with Dean and Seamus, whom I actually trusted, which meant I could loosen up a bit. I even had a few dances myself—one with Ginny, and, to my surprise, one with Hermione.
Holding her warm, trembling body in my arms felt strange—new, unexpected—but she danced beautifully, responding to every movement with an easy grace. Still, I was relieved when the song ended, and I could hand her back to Krum, who was watching us with barely concealed jealousy. And honestly? She seemed just as relieved as I was. With Krum, she was at ease, chatting and laughing in a way I hadn’t seen her do with anyone else—certainly not with any of us.
Even Percy surprised me. He was going for it with the French girls. Either the mulled mead had worked its magic, or he’d simply been helpless against all the beauty surrounding him tonight—because Fleur wasn’t the only Beauxbatons student turning heads.
Not that I’d talked to Percy much in the past month. With the tournament keeping the professors busy, he barely had any free time. And on weekends, he usually disappeared into Hogsmeade to meet up with Penelope. She worked as a secretary in the Ministry’s archives, and since they didn’t get to see each other often, he was serious about their relationship.
By the time the ball ended near midnight, I walked Luna back to the entrance of the Ravenclaw common room, kissed her cool hands, thanked her, and turned to leave. The night had been brilliant—but it left behind an odd, lonely aftertaste.
I needed a drink.
The twins could get their hands on anything if you had the gold, and I figured I could find them in their usual hideout.
But just as I turned down the right corridor, I heard soft laughter and muffled sounds ahead. I stopped instantly, backed up, and took another path.
Fred and George were both snogging Angelina.
Not one of them.
Both.
Whispering Merlin-knows-what in her ear, making her giggle, while the other stole another kiss from her lips. Only a madman would interrupt that scene.
So, I left them to it.
Everyone was at it tonight.
Even Hagrid had found a corner of the winter garden to snog Madame Maxime, murmuring something passionate while she responded in breathy French. They looked like two enormous bears trying to wrestle each other into submission. Harry and I barely managed to slip away before they noticed us.
Doubt Hagrid was actually getting anywhere with her tonight, but at least he was heading in the right direction. I just hoped Skeeter wouldn’t dedicate her next column to their “blossoming romance” and ruin it before it even began.
The next morning, we threw ourselves into schoolwork right after breakfast. I had a backlog of individual assessments for Flitwick to catch up on, and the rest of the professors hadn’t held back on holiday assignments either.
To everyone’s relief, Hermione was back to normal, meaning we could all finally put last night’s awkwardness behind us. Chatting easily, handing her scrolls and dictionaries like usual, I found myself thinking—how often do we see our friends only as we want them to be? As long as it’s comfortable for us?
Neither Harry nor I had ever needed Hermione to be beautiful or dazzling. We needed her to be Hermione—dependable, familiar, always there. And maybe that wasn’t fair to her, maybe that wasn’t right—but it’s how things were.
Before I could think too much about it, though, Harry pulled me into conversation, and I let myself get lost in the work.
The holidays ended, and school routine resumed. That’s why it was especially odd when Snape, passing by, slapped me with detention just for dropping a library book. Harry fumed about it all the way to Charms, but I knew something bigger was going on—Snape wouldn’t bother unless he had a reason.
For the rest of the day, I felt off, grinning at my friends in all the wrong moments while they assumed I was sulking about detention.
“Sir, did something happen? Have you caught Crouch?” I bombarded him with questions the moment I stepped into his office, shifting anxiously while he locked the door.
“Calm yourself, Weasley, and sit down,” he said irritably. “You’re making my head spin.”
I plopped into a chair, my eyes locked on him as he poured me a cup of tea—never a good sign.
“Oh, for Merlin’s sake, Weasley, stop staring before you burn a hole through me,” he smirked, sipping his own tea. “I assure you, nothing terrible has happened. Everyone’s alive.”
“What about Crouch?” I blurted.
“Leave Crouch alone,” he snapped, frowning. “I called you here for another reason.”
He let the silence drag, watching as I practically squirmed in my chair, before finally speaking.
“Your visions about Potter being forced into the Tournament seemed like complete nonsense to me. Luckily, they didn’t come true. But you did correctly predict the champions—before we even knew who was coming from the foreign delegations. That, I must admit, bothers me. I don’t like unexplained variables.”
I nodded. He could think whatever he wanted, as long as he kept watching our backs.
“To my surprise, the Headmaster shares some of your concerns. I can’t say much, but the current situation in the country is… tense, if you know what signs to look for. The Dark Lord’s supporters have become active again. You don’t need the details, but Dumbledore has anticipated a difficult year for Potter—so much so that he brought in an ex-Auror for extra protection. Moody is the best at detecting Dark magic.”
He paused, swirling his tea. “That said, Dumbledore’s concerns are nowhere near as dramatic as your wild theories.”
“This isn’t just some theory,” I snapped, frustrated that he was dragging things out instead of just saying it.
“Don’t interrupt me, Weasley,” he warned, eyes narrowing. “Now. If we assume you were right, and someone was attempting to push Potter into the Tournament, then that means the threat to him hasn’t gone away. The school is filled with new people, and it’s difficult to detect someone using Polyjuice. Worse still, anyone in the castle could simply be put under the Imperius Curse thanks to Moody. That paranoiac insisted on getting clearance for those lessons, so now anyone can be put under Imperius in Defence Against the Dark Arts.”
He sat forward, his face serious now. “I have a task for you.”
I tensed. “I’ll do whatever I can.”
“I have no doubt,” he muttered, and for a brief second, I thought I saw something like guilt in his expression. Like he owed me something. But then it was gone, and I figured I must’ve imagined it.
“You need to drill it into Potter’s thick skull never to agree to Side-Along Apparition with anyone outside of school grounds,” Snape said.
I blinked. That was it?
Snape smirked at my reaction. “Expecting something more heroic, were you?”
“To be honest? Yeah.”
“Well, it’s not that simple.” He set his cup down. “Hogsmeade and its surroundings fall under Hogwarts’ protective barriers—otherwise, we wouldn’t allow students to go there unsupervised. No one can Apparate within the school. But in Hogsmeade? Perfectly possible. Except for one detail—Side-Along Apparition with a Hogwarts student underage won’t work unless the student gives their consent. This prevents kidnappings. It’s part of the school’s standard security.”
He watched my face carefully before continuing.
“Additionally, all Unforgivable Curses cast on Hogwarts grounds—or within the protected area—are tracked. If anyone put Potter under Imperius, an alert would immediately register at the Auror Office, pinpointing the exact coordinates. However, an impostor could simply take on the appearance of someone he trusts—a friend, a relative—and convince him to give permission for Apparition. That wouldn’t set off any alarms.”
I felt a cold dread settle in my stomach. “You think someone might try to kidnap Harry?”
“I’m saying it’s a possibility,” Snape corrected, lips curling slightly. “And since I have neither the time nor the patience to follow him around like a lost Hippogriff, you will make sure he understands the danger.”
“This order… is it from Dumbledore?” I asked, seizing the chance to change the subject.
“No,” Snape admitted after a pause. “The Headmaster believes the real threat to Potter is inside the castle. But the information you gave me—though questionable—isn’t something I’m willing to ignore. So, Weasley, you understand your task. Now, I won’t keep you any longer.”
I stayed in my seat. “The danger—is it Karkaroff? Dumbledore suspects him because of his Death Eater past? Is that why he brought Moody in? To catch him again?”
Snape’s face darkened. “I am not discussing the Headmaster’s suspicions with you, Weasley. Where exactly did you get that idea?” Then he sneered. “Another vision, was it?”
“Harry’s been writing to Black,” I answered bluntly.
His expression twisted in immediate disgust. “I’ve said all I need to say, Weasley,” he snapped. “You’re dismissed. Your detention is over. Unless you’d like to spend the evening gutting toads?”
I took the hint and bolted.
The next month flew by without incident. I sat Harry down for a serious talk before he went to Hogsmeade with Cho. He was confused but got the message. Everything seemed fine, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off.
There was something unspoken in my conversation with Snape—something I’d missed. Like he’d held something back.
But with the Second Task approaching, the whole castle was caught up in the anticipation, and soon, so was I.
