Turning the Corner

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Transformation Scene

The next five days were comparatively uneventful. I researched my stinking Potions essays in the library in the mornings, went out for snowball fights as soon as the sun was high enough, caught up with other homework after lunch, walked around the lake or flew over the Quidditch pitch in the late afternoons, and rioted in the common room after dinner.

On Sunday I worked up the courage to hint to Hermione Granger that I didn't have a partner for the ball, and to ask her if she were going with anyone. She replied that she was. If she wasn't telling the truth, I didn't want to know why not.

At Monday dinner the Slytherin table was empty. Zacharias Smith explained to anyone who would listen that they were all boozing up in the dungeons because it was Blaise Zabini's birthday. Sure enough, at Tuesday breakfast they re-appeared, bleary-eyed and even fouler-tempered than usual. Only Pansy Parkinson, when she finally entered the hall last of all, was fresh-faced and smiling. "Didn't any of you think to go to Madam Pomfrey before breakfast?" she asked scornfully, and began handing out little packets of powder.

On Wednesday there was another dancing lesson, in which we learned the Bourée ("the most complicated dance there is"), before returning to a re-run of the Fox Trot, Swing, Waltz, Gavotte, Minuet and Congo.

I practised with Angélique Jolie from Beauxbatons, and asked her whether she had a permanent partner for the real ball. Angélique misunderstood my question, and reeled off all the Beauxbatons students' dance partners. Two of her classmates were a longstanding couple; she herself was going with a boy from Durmstrang; two of the boys had been unlucky (could I do the large favour of naming two very agreeable alone girls?); and everyone else was matched up with someone from Hogwarts.

I did ask Angélique to point out the girl who had promised to accompany Blaise Zabini. But, alas, her poor friend was in bed with a head-cold, and could not meet anyone today. They did all hope she would be well again in time for the Noël Ball, for it was to be a grand evening, not?

On Christmas Day I woke to find the usual pile of presents at the end of my bed. I had a broomstick from my parents, a bag of dungbombs from my younger brother, a new watch from my Muggle grandparents, a book about Quidditch from my wizarding grandparents, and a very gadgetty penknife from Terry. There was also a sticky wrapper full of soft toffee from the sixth-year girls, which had stuck to one bedpost and was making a terrible mess. Since I didn't really know those girls, I assume they were handing toffee bags out to everyone in Ravenclaw - kind of them.

The morning was fun, what with looking at everyone else's presents, and avoiding Harold Dingle's practical jokes, and playing a series of clever word-games organised by Roger Davies. I nearly lost my new book, but in the end I realised that Robert was borrowing it.

In the afternoon, a strange gloom settled down on me. The girls, and some of the boys, were shrieking with laughter, but I didn't feel like admiring my new possessions any more. I knew why, too. It was happening. The long-expected Yule Ball was upon us. It could not be avoided. Everyone else had a partner. And I was only going for the food.

"Want to go outside for a snow fight?" Anthony was asking.

I peered out of the window. "I think someone else is using up all the snow," I said. A crowd of mad Gryffindors was screeching at each other, and one snowball smashed right on our window, up on the seventh floor.

"Yeah, let's just play exploding snap," said Kevin.

When I was bored with snap, I picked up my book and opened it at random. As luck would have it, it was not my book after all, but Penelope Clearwater's. It had fallen open at a white page, and stated:

If you were arrested for kindness,
would there be enough evidence to convict you?

Assuming the message had been for Penelope, I pushed the book away, but suddenly found myself wondering anyway: would I be convicted? I had never considered whether I was a kind person or not. Did the Book of Wisdom have something to say to me after all? I flipped a few leaves at random, and found myself staring at a pale blue page:

Make the people near you happy,
and those who are far away will come to you.

Far away? But why would I want far-away people to come to me? The book must be a fraud, I thought, or else the charm only worked for Penelope Clearwater.

"Oh, you're reading that preachy book again," said Terry cheerily. "Hand it over, then, let's see what it says. Ah, very good, just perfect for tonight!" He was looking at a lilac sheet whose letters bounced out of line like a child's handwriting.

Those who have worked hard deserve to play hard.
Don't waste your time on half-pleasures.

"It seems rather unnecessary advice," I pointed out, riffling the pages again. "Don't you find this book, well, trite?" This time I opened to another white page:

Great opportunities to help others seldom come,
but small ones surround us daily.

"Hard to argue with that," said Terry. He was in a very good mood.

"But I don't see how it fits in with me right now," I argued. I was in a less good mood.

"Oh, you've found my book, Michael!" Penelope was swooping down on us. "I'd hate to lose that, Percy gave it to me." She looked at me quizzically as she saw what the charm was telling me, then flipped over to another page. It was a pink one, and it warned in flourishing Edwardian script:

Infatuation demands everything now.
True love can wait.

At six o'clock the girls started to leave the common room. At seven o'clock the boys started to leave. I knew I should leave too. The Yule Ball was happening. I needed to put on my dress robes. But honestly, how long does it take to put on a clean robe and run a comb through one's hair?

By half-past seven, just as my new watch was reminding me I really should stir myself, the only other person left in the common room was Luna Lovegood.

"Luna," I said, as I rose to my feet, "we must go and get changed."

"I'm not changing," she said.

I knew Luna had some eccentric habits, but this was ridiculous. "Luna, you can't go to a ball in school uniform! They won't let you in if you're not wearing dress robes."

"Oh, I'm not going to the ball," she said vaguely, as if she had said, "It's not raining today."

I did a double-take. "Not going? You're staying at school all through the holidays, but missing out on the Yule Ball?"

"Well, I was originally going with Zabini, but he changed his mind. Unfortunately, I'd already written to Daddy to say that I'd be staying at school through the holidays. And he owled back that this suited him really well, now he could go to Poland with a clear conscience to check out a rumour of government corruption. My father edits a newspaper, you see, and unusual stories are our daily bread. You know who Fudge's Senior Undersecretary is, of course?"

"Er - well - "

"Not that her name matters, the point is that this woman looks the very epitome of respectability. But our contact in Warsaw has actual proof that she's at the centre of a black market ring. Not just a few herbs and broomsticks, but smuggling out Dark artefacts in exchange for gold. Our contact claims she's supplying the whole of Eastern Europe, although that's debatable ..."

I must have been looking sceptical.

"... Responsible journalists must have proof, you know, Michael. The part about other countries may be exaggeration. So Daddy needs to do some detective work. But the part about Poland is practically certain. It's an exposé begging to be written. Obviously I couldn't ask him to give up on an excellent story like that, so I never told him I wasn't going to the ball after all."

"But surely you don't want to sit here all evening and stare at the fire!" I was sure there was some Muggle fairy tale about a girl who sat staring at the fire while everyone else went to a ball, but I couldn't remember it offhand.

"Well, I can't go down to the kitchens and annoy the house-elves at a time like this," Luna replied calmly. From anyone else it would have been a wry joke, but Luna seemed deadly serious.

"Luna," I said suddenly, "you can go to the ball. You can come with me!"

"Oh, but..."

"Seriously. Why not? I don't have a partner, and I'd - um - rather have one than not. Wouldn't you like to come to the ball with me?"

Luna wrestled with her surprise for a very short time, but it was obvious what she wanted. "All right, then. But you need to understand, Michael, that just because we're going to the ball together, that does not make me your girlfriend. It's just for this evening, and only for dancing and conversation, all right?"

"Absolutely all right," I said, keeping my face as straight as I could. "Oh ... do you have anything to wear?"

"Yes, Daddy sent me a robe when he owled me about Poland," she said. "I'll meet you down here in ten minutes, then. Thanks!"

"...I thought you were never coming up!" said Terry. "I don't think I like my dress robe. Grandma chose it for me. It looks as if it's made of grass."

"Dress robes are always a bit weird," I agreed, tunnelling under mine. "But we'll all be looking weird together." My fingers fumbled over the buttons, and I picked up my comb. "What else do I need to do to get ready? I can't imagine why the girls think they need two hours each."

"You could try washing your face," suggested Terry. "But I agree, it's a big fuss about nothing. ... Right, ready to go?"

All the boys were downstairs in the common room before any of the girls. We waited. It was ten to eight before the door to the girls' staircase burst open, and a dazzling display swept in.

Su was resplendent in pumpkin-gold silk embossed with Chinese dragons. Mandy, with her unruly hair sleeked down and plaited up, was wearing deep lilac, while Lisa was almost unrecognisable in scarlet with her hair piled onto her head. Padma was dressed in hot turquoise, silver bangles jingling, while Morag wore a neat tartan with a Celtic-knot clasp in her hair. Behind them came a radiant, crimson-clad Cho, followed by Marietta, Sophie, Penelope ... as their partners came forward to claim each one, I thought again how lonely it would have been to be attending a ball only for the food. For Robert had been right about one thing: not a single girl in Ravenclaw was attending the ball unescorted.

Luna descended the stairs last of all, not even looking at anyone else. She was the only person in the room whose dress robes were white. She had probably combed her hair, but it somehow hung down long and straggly as usual. She was wearing huge dangly earrings, shaped like snowflakes, and a sparkly snowflake headpiece, which looked as if it belonged on a Christmas tree rather than on a person. Despite her obvious attempt to follow a seasonal snow theme, I was struck by how bridal she looked. I suppressed a smile as I came forward to take her hand.

"It's okay, I can walk without tripping," she said, misunderstanding my gesture. "Shall we go down, then?"