Turning the Corner

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

End of Term

As we filed into class, I heard Longbottom happily whispering to Hermione Granger, "Your advice worked, Hermione! I asked a third-year, and she said yes! Thanks ever so for the hint!"

I noticed that Padma, Parvati, Morag and Lavender were so exhausted that they slept on their desks. I wasn't really in the mood for mucking around either. I was mulling over what Robert Runcorn and Hermione Granger had both said - that the third-year girls were likely to be very, very available. Then something else occurred to me. Yes, I could ask a third-year to come to the ball with me. But I would have to do it this evening. Tomorrow all the younger students would be going home. The only third-years who would stay in school would be those who already had a partner for the ball.

I managed to throw a couple of good hexes at Moody in our final DADA lesson. He said there was some real passion in my aim. I didn't tell him that it wasn't hatred at all, just exasperation with silly girls. Finally the bell rang. We did not dare move until Moody had countered the last jinx.

"I will not waste my breath on 'merry Christmas'," were his final words. "My message for all of your holidays is 'Constant Vigilance!'"

And the term was over.

As I scanned the courtyard after class, and later the Great Hall at dinner, I wondered which of the girls were already taken, and which one would be willing to change her plans at short notice in order to come to the ball with me.

It was too hard.

After dinner I went to the library to return my overdue books. Madam Pince sniffed at me, even when I pulled a handful of Sickles out of my pocket to cover my fines. On the way out I nearly collided with a pretty girl with a dazzlingly clear complexion.

"Sorry," we both said. She saw the funny side of the incident and smiled at me.

"You're in Hufflepuff, aren't you?" I said. "I've seen you at their table."

"And you're in Ravenclaw," she said. "I know that, because Hannah Abbott pointed you out to me. She said your name was Matthew - no, Michael - "

"Michael Corner," I supplied, flattered to have been talked about by two pleasant girls at once. "So you and Hannah are pretty good friends, are you?"

"Hannah did me a favour I'll never forget," said the girl, pulling a small jar out of her robes. "She mentioned my name to another fourth-year - perhaps you know a girl named Hermione Granger? Anyway, last week Hermione gave me this, and when I tried to thank her, she said I should thank Hannah. But Hannah said I should thank Hermione. I thought it was simplest to thank them both. It may have been a small thing to them, but it made a big difference to me."

I looked down at the jar. It was labelled in handwriting, Bubotuber Pus. "That's rather nasty stuff," I remarked.

"Only if you use too much," said the girl earnestly. "Hermione had researched the exact quantity. This little jar will last me eight or nine months."

After examining the jar, I said, "You didn't tell me your name. Is it a state secret?"

She laughed, and said, "Of course not. I'm Eloise Midgen."

I thought I had heard this name somewhere before, but I didn't register where. "Well, Eloise - you're in third year, right?"

"Yes."

"Will I be seeing you at the Yule Ball?"

"You certainly will. I'll look out for you. I'm going with a boy from Gryffindor. Do you know Dean Thomas?"

"Not very well. We only have History of Magic together, but - " Then it clicked. Now I knew where I'd heard of Eloise Midgen. "Is Thomas a long-standing boyfriend?" I asked.

"Oh, no, I hardly know him. I mean, he's nice, but I really only found out how nice after he'd invited me, and we started talking. It really restored my faith in the Hogwarts boys."

"We're not such a bad lot, are we?" I asked.

"Not most of you, but one or two - oh, you'll think I'm really silly. The truth is, Dean was the second boy to invite me to the ball. The first was in Slytherin, just the day after the ball was announced, and - "

" - and his name was Blaise Zabini!"

"How did you know?"

"Oh, I lose count of how many girls Zabini has invited to this ball. It's all a game to him. I can't imagine whether he'll actually have a real partner this time next week."

"You must think me stupid to be fooled by him," said Eloise, her voice suddenly smaller.

"Not really," I said, having finished a swift calculation, "because I'm practically certain - from other things that were happening before and after - that you were the first one he invited. You can't really be considered a fool if you were the first, can you?"

I was going to explain about the bet and the Silencing Varnish too, but we had reached the door of the Hufflepuff corridor. "Well, bye," said Eloise, "thank you for explaining that. Oh, and I didn't tell Dean that he was my second partner - you won't mention it, will you?"

"As I said, I am not on secret-spilling terms with Thomas," I promised.

I reached the Ravenclaw corridor just as Roger Davies was giving the password. He held the door open for me jauntily. "Evening, Michael. Planning on going to this dance-practice lark tomorrow?"

"Probably," I said. "What about you? You missed the first one, didn't you?"

"I had too much homework last week," he fibbed with broad smiles. "But I've realised my dancing isn't quite as good as it needs to be, so I'll be there with you tomorrow."

I was alarmed. "Did you hear that our dancing needs to be good? I'd hoped this ball would be just in fun!"

"I expect it will be for most people," said Roger kindly, "but a few of us will be more in the public eye than the rest. I'd hate to be - er, to embarrass my partner just when everyone was looking at us." His pause was not long enough to let me ask the question. "You see, I shall be accompanying Miss Delacour."

My statement that this sounded very nice seemed a rather inadequate response to that Cheshire-cat grin; but Roger was losing interest in me. Over by the window sat a whole crowd of sixth- and seventh-year boys who did not yet know his good news.

Padma did not enter the common room until very late that evening, and she had lost all trace of tears. "It's all right!" she breathed to Morag. "Parvati just told me. She's fixed me up with a boy from Gryffindor!"

"Oh, excellent," said Morag. "You must be so relieved. What about Parvati, does she have a partner?"

"Yes." Padma plumped herself on a blue sofa. "She went up to the Gryffindor common room straight after dinner, and before she could even sit down, Potter himself walked up and asked her. Think, she'll be on the champions' table! Michael was right, we just have to keep smiling!"

"Goodness, talk about saving the best for last," said Morag. "Imagine a champion even being still available so late! I saw heaps of girls throwing themselves at Potter, and when he brushed them all off, I was sure he already had a partner. But I'd never dreamed that he was keen on your sister! Parvati must be pleased. Anyway, who is to be your partner?"

Padma frowned. "I'll be going with Weasley. You know, Potter's friend with the red hair."

"Well, that sounds nice," said Morag.

"He's okay, I suppose." Padma spoke without enthusiasm. "I mean, I'm very pleased to have found any partner at this late stage in the game. And nobody says anything bad about Weasley."

"But?"

I supposed by this stage I shouldn't have been still listening in, for their voices had dropped right down to a low girls-exchanging-secrets volume, but I was seated in the neighbouring chair, and I had a book for camouflage. To be honest, I wanted to know how I might compare with Padma's new date.

Padma bit her lip. "You see, Zabini was very good-looking, so going with him would have been fun. And Michael was a regular boyfriend, so going with him would have been comfortable."

Comfortable? Only comfortable? Merlin's beard!

"But Weasley ... well, all I really know about Weasley is that he's average-looking. Which is fine," she hastily and unconvincingly added, "we mustn't be fussy about superficial things. But, more importantly, the only other thing I know about him is that nobody else wanted to go to the ball with him. So why not? Is there a reason why he had to settle for a last-minute date with a stranger?"

"I can see why that's a worry," Morag was using her soothing voice again. "You can never be sure. He might turn out to have bad breath."

Padma giggled. "So I'll take a pomander. Or perhaps he's just a crashing, crashing bore."

"Take a good book. Or maybe he's a hopelessly conceited show-off."

"I'll take ear-muffs. Or he could be a seducer."

"Lay a chastity charm on your robes. Or a pickpocket."

"I'll put a bulldog charm on my silver bracelets. Or a werewolf."

"The moon won't be full at Christmas. Or a vampire."

"I'll wear garlic perfume ... no, that won't work, it'll smell horrible. Oh, you're right, Morag, it's not very likely that Weasley has anything wrong with him. Probably he was just unlucky, like me. I'm being paranoid because I've had to settle for whomever I could get instead of having a real choice. ... So, are you going to the dancing practice tomorrow?"