Dagger of Doubt

Chapter Six

The Yule Ball

Sunday 11 – Sunday 25 December 1994

"I'll be Hogwarts champion in the Triwizard Tournament," boasted Roger. "I just need to find a trick to cheat the age barrier."

Well, ha ha ha, Roger! Harry Potter managed to outsmart the age barrier, but my very clever brother never did. He was stuck with being just an ordinary Hogwarts student, cheering from the sidelines like the rest of us. So much for his showing off!

A few weeks later, Roger was being all patronising about the Yule Ball. Cecilia, just like every girl in the school, was speculating about who would be her dance-partner. Roger happened to pass us in the corridor as she was speaking and he immediately decided to give us the benefit of his wisdom.

"Don't worry about finding partners," he reassured us. "Someone will be sure to invite each one of you."

"Cheek," complained Daphne. "He didn't actually invite any of us himself."

"Roger's never sincere," I reminded her. "He really means he doesn't think we'll be invited." After all, I'm handsome. The dreadful thought wouldn't go away. Roger knows the boys won't ask me. And he just has to rub it in while my friends are listening!

Pansy was going to the ball with Draco, of course, and Daphne and Cecilia were both too pretty to have any reason to worry. But what if I had to spend the Yule Ball discussing the Quidditch scores with Millicent? I was brooding on this humiliating vision when Blaise Zabini's voice floated across the common room.

"I expect Tracey has been driven to Confundus by now," Blaise was saying. "That tornado of invitations whirling around her head would be enough to confuse anyone."

"What?" asked Cecilia. "No, Tracey isn't confused. No-one has invited her to the Yule Ball yet."

Thanks a heap, Cecilia, I thought. So generous of you to remind the boys how unpopular I am!

"Oh, I can't believe that," said Blaise. "Tracey's face is sunshine. If she doesn't have a partner yet, she is a cruel refuser!"

Blaise Zabini fancies me? I thought. But he's never taken any notice of me before! Of course, it's never too late to change that. I plastered on a smile and announced, "I haven't told Cecilia everything yet!"

She pouted, and Blaise pounced.

"You see, she's a sunshine-face! That smile would melt the snow. Tracey, don't keep me on tenterhooks. Are you going to the Yule Ball?"

"Maybe." I didn't need to force my smile; his eyes were boring into mine and the difficulty was how to suppress my grin.

"You'll come with me, won't you? Please?"

"Blaise, I've never heard you speak so poetically before. Have you been hiding your talents?"

"Tracey, your lightest glance inspires a volume of poetry!"

I blushed and tried to simper like the other girls. "Blaise, I didn't know you cared."

"Of course I find it difficult to look on the human face of Beauty and carry out a natural conversation. Can you blame me for being a little shy of you? But the suspense is tearing me apart – won't you answer my question?"

"About the ball? Blaise, I should be delighted to go with you." I nodded significantly at Cecilia, only to find that I was looking at an empty chair. Cecilia had wandered over to the other side of the dungeon and she hadn't even heard Blaise invite me to the ball! Never mind. She had heard him call me a "sunshine-face". She had seen that boys did like handsome girls.

Take that, Roger!

I almost wished I would accidentally run into Roger, just for the satisfaction of telling him that his pity wasn't needed. "I have been invited to the ball," I imagined myself telling him. "Yes, Daphne and Cecilia are still looking, but I am going to the Yule Ball with Blaise Zabini, whom everyone agrees is the handsomest boy in fourth year."

But somehow, the imaginary dialogue never progressed because, even in my imagination, Roger was never interested.

For the next few days I walked around in a happy daydream. I had a dance-partner just like all the pretty girls, and perhaps my dance-partner would even become my boyfriend. After all, Blaise had called me the "human face of beauty". I was obviously beautiful to him!

As usual, it was the Ravenclaws who ruined everything. Millicent nearly crashed into a group of them on our way down to lunch. She stood back, waiting for them to apologise, but the Ravenclaw girls ignored us completely and continued their pretentious chattering among themselves.

Su Li was asking, "Is everyone so worried about clashing colours? Padma, did you bother to check whether your dress-robes will clash with Michael's?"

"But I'm not going with Michael," Padma Patil exclaimed. "We've broken up – didn't you know? I'm going to the Yule Ball with Blaise Zabini!"

What?

"What?" asked Su. "Are you sure? Zabini asked me on Monday, and I accepted him."

"He asked me on Tuesday," said Padma. "Did you definitely accept him, Su? In a way he couldn't misunderstand?"

"Definitely," said Su. "I had no reason to refuse him, had I? This is ridiculous – it's such bad manners to change his mind like that without even telling me. Are you sure he clearly, unequivocally asked you?"

"Absolutely. In fact," said Padma, "he asked me twice. So does he intend to take both of us? I'd say it was a misunderstanding, but of course you can never trust a Slytherin. There he is – let's go and ask what he's playing at."

Su caught her friend's arm. "No, let's not. We'll look stupid if we cause a scene. If there's an innocent explanation, we can sort it out next Herbology lesson, when we've cooled off. And if Zabini really did ask both of us at once – well, we'll make sure he doesn't go with either of us, won't we?"

Padma relaxed and then shrugged.

I didn't listen to whatever anti-Slytherin prejudices they spouted next. Blaise had invited me to the ball on Sunday, Su Li on Monday and Padma Patil on Tuesday! What was going on? I charged up to the Slytherin table and slammed my hands down onto Blaise's shoulders, forcing him to break off his conversation with Theo abruptly.

"Blaise, are we still going to the Yule Ball together?"

He reached for a ham sandwich. "What ball? Oh, that one. Davies, I haven't yet decided whether I'm going at all. But surely you don't think you have a chance of being my partner?"

"Blaise, you've already asked me, and I've accepted! Have you changed your mind?"

"I never asked you, Davies. Don't make a fool of yourself."

Theo was grinning, but it was the wrong time to involve him with the mess. I turned my head so that only Blaise could hear me. "Blaise Zabini, if you turn up at the Yule Ball with anyone but me on your arm, I will shout to every guest at the ball how your mother makes her living!"

"What?" He seemed so innocently surprised that I was the one taken aback. "But Ìyá doesn't ‘make a living'. She's independently wealthy; we've never made any secret of that."

"Twenty years ago," I reminded him firmly, "your mother was working as a model. Would you like me to show you some of her photo-shoots? I've found several old Playwizard centrefolds where your mother was posing nude."

"That was certainly not my mother," he said airily. "Save your petty blackmails for people who actually have something to hide."

He jerked his head at Theo, and they both marched away from the table only a little faster than usual. I wondered if Blaise really would manage to convince Draco and the rest that he had no connection with the long-lashed Yoruba beauty in my incriminating photographs.

Roger had been devastatingly correct. Blaise had only invited me to the ball for a joke. He had had no intention of really dancing with me. And I had fallen for his cheap flattery! I should have known it was only a joke. I slumped into the seat that Theo had vacated, trying to shut out my nightmare visions of Roger's mocking laugh. The Ravenclaw girls would gossip, and soon everyone would find out whom Blaise had fooled. Roger would laugh at me. Then he would write home and ask Mum and Dad to pity me, because I was handsome and would never have a boyfriend…

While I was despondently wondering whether the nude mother trick might after all pressure Blaise into reconsidering, Michael Corner and Zacharias Smith came to sit next to me. I tried to ignore them; I definitely didn't want any more Ravenclaws in my life today. They asked questions, and I don't remember what I answered. I didn't even realise that I had told them far too much about my problem until Smith informed me, "Zabini has a bet about how many girls he can persuade to accompany him to the ball. You've just won him a Galleon from Malfoy."

What! Well, that certainly fitted with what I already knew. But I didn't need to have it discussed in front of Ravenclaws, who would only go blabbing to Roger. So I protested and remonstrated, hoping to make myself so disagreeable that the boys would buzz off and leave me alone. I successfully irritated Corner; he made some excuse about finishing his homework and ran off. But Smith didn't seem to be at all provoke-able. No matter what I said, he didn't seem to want to leave.

"It's useless to try to punish Zabini," he said to me. "If you do find a way to annoy him, he'll take revenge."

"You weren't listening," I grumbled. "I'm not trying to punish Blaise; I want to persuade him to keep his promise and take me to the ball after all. I didn't say I'd actually show people the rude pictures of his mother; I said Blaise might oblige me if he thought I'd show them."

"Oh, do not waste your time," said Smith. "If you're wanting embarrassing stories about Zabini's mother, I can give you a much bigger laugh than a couple of nude photographs. Did you know that she's my aunt?"

"What? That's right, Nature's Nobility does say that one of her husbands – one of her many husbands – was named Smith. Was he related to you?"

"Yes, Edom Smith was my father's brother. He worked in our family business until the day he won fifty thousand Galleons on the lottery. Such a huge win was broadcast all over the Daily Prophet, and of course he was bombarded with congratulatory owls from single witches who suddenly wanted to meet him. But the only one of these admirers whom he actually met in the flesh was Alansasa Zabini, a widow with a baby. I'm expecting she used some Voodoo charm to prevent her rivals from ever reaching our front door."

"Did she use a love potion on your uncle?"

"We'll never be able to prove that. I can only tell you that Uncle Edom loaded Alansasa Zabini with diamonds and married her within a month. After that our family hardly ever saw him. Two years later, he suddenly and mysteriously died. He was a healthy wizard of thirty-two who did not drink or smoke and had always been unusually cautious, so I'm not believing that he died from illness or accident. The fifty thousand Galleons were all settled on Alansasa and Blaise, of course; nobody named Smith ever saw a Knut of it."

"Wasn't Alansasa named Smith by then?" I objected logically.

"Not for long. Within a year, she'd married a ruby merchant named Khan."

"So do you think… Smith, were all her husbands wealthy? Did she kill them?"

"We cannot prove anything," he repeated. "For all I know, Alansasa had maybe fallen foul of surviving Death Eaters, and it could be they who have persecuted her husbands. Or perhaps it's some Voodoo curse from her family in Nigeria. Whatever the reason, a lot of healthy young people who knew Alansasa have ended up dead. I'd stay away from the mother and the son if I were you."

I shivered. "And to think I nearly let Blaise Zabini take me to the ball!"

"I'm not thinking anything so horrible. You'd be better off going with me."

"Yes, I would," I agreed. Now I came to think of it, going with Smith might be quite fun. We'd certainly find things to talk about. But I wasn't going to risk being jilted again, so I reminded him, "Aren't you meant to be going with Parvati Patil?"

"I can get out of that."

"Well, mind you do!" I snapped. "Do it quickly, before I promise to go with someone else. Until you officially get rid of Parvati Patil, I'm officially free to go with anyone who asks me!"

I wondered if it had been a good idea to snap at Smith; after all, he was helping me out of a hole. But he didn't seem to be thinking of that, for he simply assured me that he would definitely get rid of Parvati Patil today and would I please not give anyone else a definite promise before at least tomorrow.

So that is how it happened that on Christmas night I sailed into the Yule Ball on the arm of Zacharias Smith, my sort-of boyfriend. I was wearing an old scarlet dress-robe of Mum's that Grandma Bones had altered to fit me. I didn't want to listen to my classmates boasting about how their robes were new, so I was quite glad when Zacharias suggested we go and sit with his Hufflepuff friends. I should be proud to have him as my escort, shouldn't I? He was tall and fair, and you could probably describe his nose as "distinguished". He was wearing a blue-and-green tartan, which might be a sign that he belonged to an illustrious Highland clan.

"It's just the Smith family tartan," he told me. "Everybody named Smith is allowed to wear it, even non-clansmen like me."

"Oh. But aren't you Scottish?"

"I'm a Lowlander so the Highlanders do not count that. But the tartan is better than wearing black all the time, the way I usually have to at home."

Draco was swaggering past us completely shrouded in black satin so I nodded fervently. "Why do they make you wear black at home?"

"My grandfather owns the wizarding funeral parlour. In the undertaking business, we have to wear black to look the part."

"Really? Is your funeral place one of those old family businesses where the whole family has worked for generations?"

"It is. My father's expecting me to work for Smith's as soon as I leave Hogwarts. But I'll maybe surprise him and choose something else because I'd rather not spend my whole life working around death. What about you – how do your parents earn their living?"

By now I was used to covering up how unambitious my parents were, and the misleading information tripped off my tongue. "Mum's at St Mungo's and Dad's a cordwainer." This line had convinced Cecilia that my mother was a Healer and my father was a master shoemaker; I had never needed to confess that Mum only worked in administration and Dad was still a mere journeyman.

But Zacharias was sharper than Cecilia. "I think I've met your father. Is he the Brian Davies who works for Cobbler's? He knows his trade; he gave me a good fit. I knew you were from a useful sort of family, Tracey. I cannot stand people who show off their money or brains but never contribute anything useful to our community."

Hufflepuffs are so refreshing! I thought as Zacharias and I sat down at one of the dining tables. They don't care how ordinary anyone is; they admire straightforward hard work and effort more than talent or status!

I was all set to have a very jolly time with Zacharias's friends when I happened to glance up at the Triwizard champions on the dais. Oh, no! I could not believe my eyes. Enthroned right there in the seat of honour was my brother Roger!

How had he managed to wrangle the place at the centre of everyone's attention? He wasn't a champion and he certainly wasn't a judge. He had no right at all to buzz around Fleur Delacour like a mad fly swimming in honey. Delacour could have had any boy from any of the three schools as her partner: whatever had possessed her to choose Roger?

Zacharias was in fact saying something about the champions' table so I exclaimed, "Those people up on the top table who think they're so important because a champion invites them to the ball!"

Zacharias shrugged. "Why not let them show off a bit, if it's making them happy?"

"Because people ought to do something for themselves instead of relying on reflected glory and accidents of birth, that's why!" I complained.

The lunatic Ravenclaw next to me serenely reminded us, "The Goblet of Fire did choose Fleur out of all the Beauxbatons students."

This point about the Goblet explained Delacour, who had done something to earn her glory, but it definitely didn't explain Roger. "But it didn't choose my brother!" I gasped, fighting off tears. "Why does he think he deserves a spot up there with the people who matter?"

"I'm expecting that Fleur thought he was pretty," said Zacharias. "It makes her look good to have him hovering over her."

Pretty! I felt a rush of gratitude towards Zacharias. Ha ha ha, Roger, you're pretty! Perhaps no-one would ever call me that, but someone had said it about Roger, and it was far worse for a boy to be pretty than for a girl to be handsome. Roger wasn't clever or athletic or admirable… just pretty.

Zacharias was the best escort a girl could have! For a moment, I wished he was my real boyfriend, whatever that meant. He was smarter than all the Ravenclaws put together and he had a great deal more sense than most of the Slytherins. We laughed at the same things and we hated the same annoyances. Not even Roger could upset me very much as long as I had Zacharias next to me to call him "pretty".

I smiled triumphantly at the Slytherins three tables away. Pansy and Draco were too busy leading the conversation to notice, but Cecilia waved at me.

"Malfoy looks like a vicar at a funeral," observed Zacharias, "and Parkinson looks like a meringue!"

Vincent, Gregory and Millicent were shovelling in the food; none of them had a partner. Theo was over-familiarly stroking Cecilia’s rib-cage but he wasn’t actually looking at her. Daphne was whispering to Blaise, but how could she be happy about an escort who had tried to invite just about every girl in the year before settling on her? On the next table, Cecilia’s sister was sucking the face off a Quidditch Chaser, which was very bad manners in public, and Daphne’s sister was looking thoroughly disenchanted with the Durmstrang boy who kept grabbing her hand. Nearer to us, Susan Bones was chatting happily with that very posh Hufflepuff Muggle-born, but she had already told me that they were just friends. There didn’t seem to be one couple at the feast who were happier than Zacharias and I were!

Our cheerful mood lasted all through the meal, right up until the dessert dishes vanished and the Weird Sisters began playing the first waltz. The dancing was about to begin. And who had the privilege of opening the dance? The Triwizard champions! I knew, a fraction before it happened, which couple would be first on the dance floor.

Roger glided into the arena holding Delacour in his arms as if the whole hall belonged only to him. He had been practising his waltz step and so his dancing was flawless. I could feel the gasps of admiration for his performance, could smell that every eye was upon them. People couldn't help staring at the Veela-girl, of course, but she was locked so tightly in Roger's embrace that even the men were staring at him too. That was what he wanted, wasn't it? To be in the centre of everyone's attention – that was what Roger always wanted and always got.

I couldn't tear my eyes away. Someone's camera flashed, and I knew the photographs would find their way to Mum, Dad and all the relations. Everyone would say, yet again, how well Roger had done. They would be asking about his Veela girlfriend for months to come, but they wouldn't even remember whether or not I had been there, let alone whether I had brought an escort or known how to waltz.

With a tug at my arm, Zacharias whooped, "This is us, Tracey!" and pulled me into the dance. Suddenly his arms were clamped around me and I could smell the sweat under his robes. It ought to have been a happy moment; I was finally dancing with Zacharias Smith.

But all I could think about was Roger flawlessly waltzing with Fleur Delacour, the most important couple at the Yule Ball. I had been sorted into a different house, where I had my own friends and my own interests, yet I was still living in Roger's shadow. I would never escape very far away from Roger as long as he was still at Hogwarts.